Which Way Is Up?
by Mel88
Summary: Christine first encounters mysterious Erik at age 16 while on a school field trip. After 10 years and an engagement to Raoul, she returns to the site of her awakening to seek out the man who had occupied her thoughts for so many years. But how much and wh
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I feel silly having to mention this, but the only parts of The Phantom of the Opera that I own are the DVD, the soundtrack, and the book. Also, this is the first story I've posted. Any feedback, be it praise or criticism, is greatly appreciated. Hope you enjoy it!

Girl Talk

It was the summer of Christine's 16th year, and she was finally living out one of her many seemingly impossible dreams: going to France. She stood at the terminal, watching her friends get waved off by their parents, and more strikingly, their boyfriends. Her best friend, Meg Giry, was currently involved in an obscene PDA.

Meg and the boy she was currently latched on to were a very unlikely couple. Meg looked in every way like an angel. She had light blonde hair that fell straight, thick, and long down to her mid-back. She had clear blue eyes and just radiated peace and goodness where ever she went. She was the last person ever expected to hook up with Tom, her intensely gothic boyfriend. Christine was shocked when she first met him. She saw them walking towards her, hand in hand, Meg dressed in jeans and a collared shirt and Tom dressed in all black with multiple piercings. Christine got used to it after a day, and now, the two were inseparable.

'Quite literally,' she thought with a chuckle and a rueful smile. 'What I wouldn't give for that.'

For all of her life, Christine had been alone. Her father died before she was born, her mother during labor. No siblings came before her, and obviously, none came after. She had no contact with aunts, uncles, or even grandparents. She had been born without a family. Thus, she was immediately sucked into the "the system", which undeniably had its flaws.

She bounced around from home to home, from city to city, from state to state for the first 14 years of her life. Christine had no occasion to make many close friends, and didn't even fathom the idea of a boyfriend. Fortunately, Christine was one of the few lucky ones. She eventually settled with one foster family for four years, allowing her to maintain a steady GPA and a core group of friends through high school. Still, something was missing. Sure, the family was nice enough, but with seven other children to look after, Christine was sometimes nothing but an afterthought.

To burn off the frustration she often felt because of her life, Christine ran. This not only kept her sane, but also toned her already lean body. Muscles lay below her fragile-looking exterior, oftentimes causing people to misjudge her. She was tough. For the ripe age of 16, Christine had the air of a girl who had to grow up much too fast. Her wide amber eyes held significant knowledge of the world and its cruelties, and betrayed her naïve looking face. Her dark chocolate curls, which framed her face, added to her look of innocence. She sometimes thought she looked like a life-sized doll: small features, porcelain skin, except for her rosy cheeks, perfectly shaped pink lips. It was hard to look so innocent. Teachers, friends, and sometimes even family underestimated her and were unintentionally condescending.

'But I must be grateful,' she scolded herself. 'My family and my friends have given me more than I ever thought I could have. And now, I'm 16 and I'm going to Europe!'

"This is the final boarding call for Air France Flight 210. Please have your ticket ready as…" droned the sickly sweet voice of the gate attendant. Christine's friends gave one last wave to their loved ones, and made their way towards the gate.

"Did you have a pleasant send-off, Meg?" Christine said to Meg with a smile.

Meg looked at Christine and laughed. "Yes I did, thank you very much!"

As Christine gave her ticket to the attendant, she steeled herself for the long flight ahead. She clutched her Passport and her I-Pod and stepped onto the plane, ready to visit the country that had enchanted her for so long.

The flight landed many hours later in the Charles de Gaulle International Airport. The trip had left her somewhat frazzled. It had not been her first time on a plane, but it was certainly the longest she had ever been on one. And it had not gone smoothly. Luckily, Meg was prepared for this and brought along the sleep-aid of the gods: Dramamine. Christine groggily grabbed her luggage and was soon bustled off onto the bus that was to take them to the hotel.

Once finished unpacking and eating, the girls settled into their beds, preparing for sleep, but knowing their objective was futile. With four girls to a room, sleep was not an option. Instead…

"Who's ready for girl talk?" shrieked one of their roommates, Carmen.

All four girls gathered pillows and blankets and migrated to the floor. Spontaneous giggles erupted when Ashley, Meg and Christine's other roommate, pulled a gigantic bag of Twizzlers from her bag. Each grabbed a couple of the red vines, and settled down for what looked to be a long conversation.

After the usual gossip about who was going out with whom, who was a bitch, and who was a slut, the topic turned a bit more personal.

"Guys," whined Carmen. "I want a boyfriend!"

Christine lowered her eyes.

"Don't worry, you'll get one eventually," said Ashley.

"Oh, you always are the optimistic one. It's been ages since I had any action. I can't stand it!"

"It's really not that big of a deal," countered Meg. "I mean, it's like having a big puppy. Hey! Don't give me that weird look. It is! It's cute a first, but then it starts to want food and attention and…"

"Does is start peeing on the carpet, too?"

The four girls burst into peals of laughter at Carmen's quip.

Catching her breath, Meg said, "Well, that too. But after a while, really, it's no big deal any more."

"You only say that because you have one," said Carmen.

'Well, some people haven't even had their first kiss yet, Carmen!" said Ashley.

"Oh yeah? Like who?"

At this, Christine reddened and slowly raised her hand. "I haven't," she said in a small voice. Almost immediately, reassurances spewed from the mouths of Meg, Carmen, and Ashley. "It will happen eventually." "You just haven't found the right one yet." "Don't worry, your first kiss probably won't be any good anyways."

Taking it all with a doubtful smile, Christine leaned back against the bed.

"I just hope it happens soon. I'm sick of being alone."

She snuck a glance at the clock.

"Guys! It's 2 a.m. We have to sleep."

At the mention of the time, yawns suddenly started to escape from the girl's mouths. Each crawled into bed, and by 2:15, soft breathing, and Carmen's snoring, was all that could be heard.


	2. Chapter 2

Sightseeing

Christine and her three friends were nearing the end of their weeks stay in Paris. They had done all the customary tourist attractions that are basically obligatory while in the city.

On day one, they took an elevator to the top of le Tour d'Eiffel, and had lunch at Le Jules Verne at 125 meters above the ground. They contemplated Mona Lisa's smile at Le Louvre on the second day, and admired many other works of art as well. Ashley, being the slightly nerdy one, had to practically be dragged away from the works that were mentioned in Dan Brown's The DaVinci Code.

Notre Dame was on the agenda for day three. Upon entering the cathedral, Christine's breath was taken. The ornate artwork and amazing architecture gave the building more than just history-it gave the cathedral personality. Christine felt safe within the old church, its stone walls offering her protection in a way she had never before experienced. Christine was by no means a Catholic, or overly religious at all for that matter, but for that singular moment in Notre Dame, she believed in angels.

Day four, the quartet decided to take a break from the attractions. Instead, they shopped. The fashion capital of the world stood up to its reputation flawlessly. The girls came back to the hotel with their arms heavy with handbags, shirts, skirts, shoes, and cosmetics, with their pocketbooks considerably lighter.

That night, the girls got to test their new apparel at one of Paris's many discotheques. They returned to the hotel at 3 a.m. and did not wake until noon the next day.

Luckily, they had nothing planned for early on day five. Later in the evening, they were to see "Notre Dame de Paris" at the Paris Opera House.

'This is what I really wanted,' Christine thought as she applied her make-up.

Christine's passion was music of all sorts. She listened to every genre, but sang mostly ballads, opera, and Broadway tunes.

They arrived at the Opera House. Like in Notre Dame, Christine was enchanted. The red velvet draperies, the gold-gilded molding, the marble floors, the soaring ceilings, flowing lines…every aspect of the theatre oozed grace and elegance.

The show ensnared her senses and completely captivated her. She had always been attracted to the story of Quasimodo and Esmeralda. Their against-all-odds love for each other and the difficulties each had to face seemed incredibly realistic to Christine. And the music was phenomenal! Christine entered the hotel, clutching the soundtrack and humming her favorite song, "Ave Maria".

On day six, the four did something of questionable legality. They were wandering the streets of Paris when Meg spotted a man's head pop up from a manhole. She screamed, which caught the attention of the man as well as Christine, Carmen, and Ashley. Seeing the frightened and confused expressions on the faces of the girls, the man quickly offered an explanation as to what exactly he was doing. His explanation was one that highly intrigued the now somewhat calmer group of girls.

"I am exploring ze catacombs de Paris," he said with a thick French accent. "Would you care to join me?"

The girls did not even debate the proposition. Furtively, they scanned the street for gendarmes. Seeing none, they carefully lowered themselves into the grimy underground.

The darkness around them was complete, and Christine felt like she was being smothered due to the smell. The air was dank and musty, archaic, decaying, and damp. With each breath Christine took, she thought she could feel her lungs clouding from the old air.

The guide turned on his head lamp and Christine's eyes quickly adjusted to the sparse light. She got her first proper view of the underground. Her first impression was that the catacombs looked how they smelled: slimy. The walls were dripping with some unknown substance and puddles of murky, greenish water gathered at their feet. Christine was thankful that she had worn her sneakers today.

"Suivez-moi," the guide said, as he started to move into the labyrinth. Despite her appropriate footwear, Christine still tried to dodge and skirt all the puddles she could. After about 20 minutes and a few close calls, she decided to not care any more. The scenery was far too interesting to bother with the state of her toes.

As they moved along, the underground grew drier, and surprisingly, more hospitable. Every so often they would pass a large open chamber with smooth walls and a crude table with chairs. Even more shocking was when they encountered other explorers. Some looked like their guide, who obviously made his home in the land of the light. Others, though, looked as if they had never seen the sun in their life. They were pale and dirty, with greasy hair and unpleasant smells.

"Que cherchez-vous?" asked one of the men they encountered. Christine, one of the two girls that actually spoke French, was stunned into silence. She wasn't expecting him to speak at all! The guide, seeing their dumbstruck faces, intervened and carried on what seemed to be a familiar conversation with the underground dweller. They spoke in low tones, with both men gesticulating and pointing in a dozen different directions. Their conversation ended and the group of five continued on their quest.

Left, right, right, middle tunnel, third path from the left…Christine tried to remember the path, but only succeeded in giving herself the beginnings of a big headache.

After an hour and a half of walking in the dark, their guide stopped and turned to them, giving Meg his extra flashlight. "Zis is where I leave you. Ze catacombs are through ze tunnel straight ahead. To reach ze surface, all you have to do it enter zis chamber and climb ze ladder. Have fun, and bonne chance."

Meg gave him a few Euros for his time, said thank you, and he wandered off into the darkness before the girls had a chance to question him further.

Christine was the first one to enter the chamber, and what she saw astonished her. Heaped in piles all around her were human remains. Most were bones, but the smell indicated that a few bodies were still in over of the various stages of decomposition. The white of skulls reflected towards her, along with vertebrae, ribs, hips, and feet.

She jumped as Meg gave a yelp. After a respectful amount of time, the girls headed up the ladder, back into what was now the early evening. And what a sight they were! All were squinting, even in the soft sun of the evening. They were filthy-their feet and the bottoms of their pants were caked in unrecognizable grime. Their hair was wet and matted, and their faces were smudged with dirt.

The hailed a cab and laughed as they saw theconfusedexpression on the drivers face. The four dirty girls arrived safely at their hotel.

Their last day was spent at la Musée d'Erotisme, upon Carmen's suggestion. The suggestive pieces made Christine blush madly, and the raunchier ones even made Carmen lower her eyes.

After the museum, they arrived at the hotel for the last time and began to pack. They had reached the end of their stay in Paris and were off to the small city of Rennes, France where they were to have a one-night stay in the Château de Hac.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: I probably should have mentioned this earlier, but this story is basically finished. This means fairly regular updates, which I know everyone loves. And as for Erik, just wait for it. You'll see him soon enough. As always, I love reviews. Enjoy!

A Short Jaunt

She was walking down a long and dark corridor. She was looking for something. A glance to the right, nothing. A look to the left, a flash of movement, a soft swish of fabric. Intrigued, Christine turned fully towards the sound and found nothing but a closed door. She jiggled the handle, surprised to find it unlocked. She swung open the door, and saw…

U2? "And I still haven't found what I'm looking for."

The song blared on, and all Christine could manage was a muffled "Mmmph."

'That was such aninteresting dream,' she thought, rubbing her bleary eyes to accommodate the morning sunlight that came through the window. 'And what appropriate lyrics to start my day with,' she thought to herself with an ironic little smile.

Christine quite literally rolled out of bed and crashed onto the floor, immediately regretting her decision to leave the bed in the first place. She grumbled yet again and picked herself up to glance at the time.

"6 a.m.," she said aloud. "Why did we want the 9 a.m. rail again?" to no one in particular. Carmen and Ashley looked as if they regretted that decision as well, but at this point, nothing could be done about it.

Christine took her shower and stepped out at 20 after.

"Meg? Meg. Meg!" she said, shaking her best friend. "Wake up. We have to get going."

"Five more minutes…I dun wanna gerup…" Meg's speech then became unintelligible and transcended into a light snoring.

"Ha, whatever," said Christine with a chuckle.

Christine eventually managed to get Meg out of bed and soon the girls were boarding the French rail system, called the TGV.

Compared to the American rail system, the TGV was a luxury. The cars were clean and the seats were spacious. 'They still use the same monotonous fabric, though,' she thought as Meg slept some more. The indistinguishable pale yellow shapes on the navy blue background were just the right touch of neutrality to thoroughly annoy the color-conscious side of Christine.

A few hours later, they arrived in sunny Rennes, France. The quaint city had retained its look of historic innocence, even with the obvious signs of progress. The narrow gray-stoned streets made two-way traffic somewhat perilous. Christine saw no less than five possible accidents within her first few minutes in the city. And not all of the accidents were between cars, either. Several slow walking window shoppers were nearly run down by the wild drivers. Christine saw one particularly nasty near-collision in which a pedestrian was crossing the street and the driver stopped hard, making the tires screech. The pedestrian yelled several French obscenities, hit the car with a loud smack of his palm, and then continued walking as if nothing was wrong.

'How do people _survive_ here?' Christine thought.

Soon, the tour group's bus pulled up to the rail station. Christine looked skeptically at the bus and, without a change of expression, looked at Meg.

"It's nearly impossible for the _small_ cars to navigate these streets. How the devil is a tour bus going to make it!"

Meg looked at the bus, the streets, then back to Christine. With a serious expression on her face, she said, "Well Christine, it was nice knowing you."

A quick bus ride and a few motion-sickness scares later, the group arrived safely at the Château de Hac.


	4. Chapter 4

The Dream Begins

Christine descended the steps of the bus slowly, much to the annoyance of those behind her. But her attention was focused on something much more important than the state of her peers. The Château de Hac held Christine in a state of awe. She stopped when she reached the ground and hardly noticed when Meg jostled her out of the way.

The château was straight out of a fairy tale. Six turrets rose spectacularly into the air. The light stone with which the turrets were constructed was juxtaposed by the terracotta slate used as roofing tiles. The contrast made the turrets seem even taller than they were. They looked magical, almost as if they were a figment of a young girl's over-active imagination. She imagined the story that could be written about this castle. A hostage princess, trapped in one of the tallest towers, lonely and afraid, would look out of her one window each night, hoping to catch sight of her rescuer-her one true love. Just one glimpse of him would console her and give her enough hope to spend another day in the tower. Another day in the tower, another day alone.

"Ahhh!" shrieked Meg, violently waking Christine from her reverie. "It's beautiful! Oh Christine, this is so amazing! I can't believe…"

Meg rattled on about her amazement as they continued down the walk to the grand front doors. Rose bushes lined the path, lending splashes of red and a light scent that was carried on an even lighter breeze. Even the gravel beneath their feet seemed spectral, making a perfect crunching sound as they walked.

The group passed through the ornately carved doors and into the castle's foyer. Despite the computerized front desk and electric lights, the inside of the castle looked realistically antique. The floors were white marble with swirls and whorls of black and gray. The walls were the same color stone as the outside, but warmly decorated with red and gold tapestries.

Moving her eyes up the wall, Christine then settled her view to the high, vaulted ceiling. A wrought iron chandelier hung down. Now, it was illuminated by electric lights. But Christine could easily imagine candles lending their soft glow to light up the foyer. Facial features would have been less severe, shadows would have been more pronounced. All together, the atmosphere would have been one of subtle romance, sweet dreams, and hidden desires.

'This place is one of dreams," Christine said. "It's beautiful."

"Girls, come here please!" yelled Christine's French teacher, trip chaperone, and Meg's mother, Mme. Giry. She told the girls to pair up, then proceeded to give each pair a heavy iron room key.

"Well, it'll be near impossible to lose this thing," said Meg, turning over the key in her hands.

"With you," said Christine, "I wouldn't be surprised."

Meg stuck out her tongue at a smiling Christine, and both started to mount the stairs to their shared room.

XOX

To Christine and Meg's delight, their room was located in one of the towers. The 72 steep steps up to the tower were slightly difficult to maneuver; both girls were lugging 50-pound suitcases behind them.

"That was annoying," grumbled Meg as they at last entered their room.

Rushing over to the window and flinging it open, Christine stuck out her head and took a deep breath in.

"Oh, the climb was worth the view! Look, Meg!"

Meg groaned as she pushed herself up off the couch and made her way to the window. She gasped at what she saw. The two girls were gaping at the expanses of well-manicured lawn. A modern swimming pool had been installed, but the bright blue of the chlorinated water did little to mar the natural beauty of the grounds. A greenhouse was spotted a distance away from the pool. A short walk beyond that were the stables where Christine could see a few of the horses and the paddocks in which they were located. She could pick out the individual trails leading from the stables into the woods, no doubt twisting and winding in such a way that only a well-versed guide would be able to successfully navigate them.

Christine tore herself away from the window and took in the details of her room.

"The decorator certainly had a theme…"

"You think?"

Christine brushed off Meg's sarcastic reply and went back to her observations. Yes indeed, the room had a theme. And that theme was green. The sitting room the door led into was furnished with an inviting and plush dark green couch with brown accented pillows and throw blankets. The rug on the floor was patterned, involving green, brown, tan, crimson, gold, and cream, which softened the look of the cherry wood floor. The cream colored walls also lightened up the room considerably, for which Christine was grateful. If it had been a darker color, the room would have been intolerable.

Making her way into the bedroom, Christine found that the color scheme had not been abandoned. The walls and floor were the same color, but the four poster canopy bed was mint green instead of the forest green of the couch.

Wanting nothing more than to lie on the bed and vegetate, Christine reluctantly pulled herself away. That is when she saw the fireplace.

It had to be the biggest one she had ever seen. 'A full-grown man could fit into there without much of a problem,' she thought. Not only was it big, but it was gorgeous. The rough stones made Christine think of an old country cottage. Yet the perception vanished immediately as Christine saw the ornately carved designs etched into the wood. Taking a step closer, she ran her fingers over the finely carved vines and flowers. They twisted and writhed almost as if they grew into the wood and petrified hundreds of years ago.

"Damn!" said Meg.

"I know. Isn't it amazing?"

"No, not that! We're late for the tour. Crap, that docent did not look too friendly. She's going to kill us!"

Christine scrambled for the key as Meg rushed to the door. Together, they flew down the stairs, not looking forward to the lecture they were sure they were to receive, but unwilling to try the guide's patience any longer.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Thanks to Jamea for being my first, and only, reviewer. The rest of you have some explaining to do. :shakes head reprovingly: Really though, please review and enjoy this chapter!

First Glimpses

The château guide, Mme. DesChanels, was standing in the foyer, impatiently tapping her foot and checking her watch, knowing perfectly well what time it was. Meg and Christine stumbled from the staircase, flushed and giggling. The docent regarded them with an icy stare and launched into a lecture a half-heard lecture about promptness.

The tour began just after the guide realized that no one was listening. Giving a weary sigh, she led them outside and started to talk. Pointing to the castle, she explained the architectural history of the château.

"Le Château de Hac was constructed in the early half of the 15th century by the Chamberlain of the Duke of Brittany, Jean Hingant. Even though the castle was the center of an important agricultural field, the Chamberlain lost his property in 1450. Since then, the château has passed from owner to owner, each losing it in a matter of years. Now, if you will follow me to the-"

"Who owns it now?" interrupted Carmen.

The madame shot Carmen an annoyed look before replying, "We do not know too much about the present owner. Truthfully, I am unsure if any of the staff has ever seen him before. But it really does not matter all that much. The cheques are signed and on time. We never question it. Now, if you will kindly follow me..."

She led the group around the perimeter of the castle. The limestone, which gave the castle exterior its light color, was extracted from the ancient Faluns Sea. She explained the proportions of the castle, its turrets, and the mixed Renaissance and gothic style furniture.

While admiring all the aspects of the château that Mme. DesChanels pointed out, Christine passed her eyes over the windows. She felt a stiff wind come up as her eyes landed on one window in particular, one in which she saw something. Her hair was flying in front of her face as she tried to distinguish the figure. Was it a shadow? A trick of the light? A moment later and the truth dawned on her: it was a person. She could only see a faint outline of the figure, but she could tell by the broad stature that it was a man.

'But how could that be? Meg was telling me that he mother rented out all of the rooms in the château. There couldn't possibly be any other guests besides our group.'

She focused again on the man in the window, the wind still blowing strong. She saw the figure shift a bit and a new feature of the man was revealed: a faint white glow where she suspected his face would be. A shiver ran through Christine, as if she had just locked eyes with this strange specter in the window. She closed her eyes as the shudder ran through her body and away with the wind. When she looked up again, the figure was gone.

Christine jogged a bit to catch up to the group as they toured the pool and the greenhouses. The gardens were truly impressive.

"Miles and miles of paths, all lined with flowers and trees. Everything perfectly maintained," said Mme. DesChanels with more than just a hint of pride.

The stables were next. As they walked through the barn, Christine only half-listened. She was too engrossed with the horses and their names to pay much attention. Eight horses were kept in the stable. The biggest four were dedicated solely to pulling the château's carriage. Two horses were retired, one was for pleasure, and the last one was a filly. Christine glanced at the names of the horses. An appaloosa named Drôle was happily sleeping in a stall. Right next to him was a filly. The little horse absolutely captured Christine's heart. Her name plate read Fraise.

'"Strawberry". How appropriate,' she said as she regarded the filly's light red-honey coloring.

The young horse, showing no fear of Christine, walked right up to her stable door and stuck out her nose, waiting to be pet. Christine slowly stuck out her hand for the horse to sniff and softly stroked the little filly's velvet nose. Fraise closed her eyes, obviously enjoying the attention she was getting.

Out of nowhere though, Fraise stood stock still, opened her eyes, and pricked up her ears. She stared at a spot directly behind Christine.The young girlfelt paralyzed with fear.

'If something spooked the horse, than it probably means no good for me,' she thought.

Christine once more felt a familiar prickle run down her spine. Then, she heard something too: soft footsteps on the hay, a gentle swish of fabric (which may have just been the wind, which had again picked up), and a door quietly closing. She felt as if she could move again and turned around. Sitting on an overturned bucket was three sugar cubes and an apple.

Glancing to either side, Christine saw nothing extraordinary about the barn and notrace of whom had left the sweets. The only proof that anyone had been there at all was the filly's reaction and the sudden appearance of food.

Christine figured that the treats were meant for Fraise and gave them to her obligingly. After a few more pats, Christine said goodbye and hustled to catch up to the group once more. By the time she arrived at Meg's side, it was time for them to tour the inside of the Château de Hac.

XOX

"All the wood in the house is cherry, accented with deep colors for a rich and luxurious atmosphere," Mme. DesChanels explained while leading them into the kitchen. We employ four chefs at the moment, with two apprentices. A staff of about 50 people keeps the house in the magnificent shape it's in. They live in the servant's quarters, which you saw earlier.

"I haven't seen any workers this whole time," said Carmen.

"A phenomenon easily explained, I assure you. Secret passageways riddle this house. The workers have a map of the ones we know about, which totals out to be approximately 15 or so. But there very well could be more. You may have noticed the fireplaces in your rooms. You will find one in every room in the house. I dare say M. Hingant had a bit of penchant for them."

"Do any of the fireplaces work?" said Christine, piping up for the first time.

"They used to. When parties were thrown, every fireplace in the château was lit and meticulously maintained by no less than three people. Today though, they are considered impractical and somewhat of a hazard. Mostly, they are useless, except for decoration. Now, please follow me to the dining hall."

She led them through the dining hall, the sitting room, and past the chapel. The library was next. As they passed, Christine gave the room only a cursory glance, despite her fondness for books. Out of her peripheral vision, Christine saw the same figure she saw in the window.

'That's him,' she thought. 'No doubt about it.'

She saw the familiar white near the top of the figure, this time getting a clearer look at it. She craned her head around only too see him disappear behind a bookshelf. It was like he was hiding from her. Like he knew she was there, and was just teasing her.

"Is this place haunted?" Christine asked, not caring if she interrupted or not. She needed to know if she was hallucinating or if what she was seeing could be real.

"Actually, it might be. We have had reports of a phantom, if you will. A couple of the staff has seen it. A figure, a man, usually dressed in black. He's never seen head-on however. It always happens through a window or from the corner of one's eye. We have no idea how it would have arrived either. No premature deaths or murders were committed in the château to our knowledge. There is a graveyard on site, but that is out quite a distance from the castle and would offer no explanations. I will ask you all, though, not to roam the house at night, when it is most active. Piano music and other strange noises have been heard and objects have sometimes gone missing. We do not know if the phantom is dangerous or not, but we would rather not chance it."

'Hm,' thought Christine with a sigh of relief. 'I'm not crazy, I'm just seeing ghosts.' She chuckled at the ridiculousness of her statement and followed Mme. DesChanels around the rest of the magnificent castle.

XOX

The tour ended half an hour later and it was time for dinner. They had a spectacular French meal then all changed to go for a dip in the pool. Later in the Jacuzzi, Meg said, "Wow, this has really been a great time. What a way to end our visit to Paris! But am I ready for a good night's sleep."

Christine nodded her head in agreement, but thought to herself, 'My Paris adventure isn't over quite yet.' She had plans for tonight, and they in no way involved sleeping.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Sorry this has taken so long. I went to Chicago for a bit and didn't bring my computer. This chapter is kind of short, but I think (hope) you guys will like it. And don't forget to review, please!

Acquaintance

Climbing into the bed that she would be sharing with Meg for that evening, Christine had her first doubts about what tonight held for her. While Meg was chattering on about this and that, she was silently arguing with herself.

'What is Meg wakes up when I'm leaving? I can just say that I'm heading to the bathroom. And if she wakes while I'm out? She'll flip out! Who knows who she'll call? I'd get into so much trouble, not just for disobeying the docent, but also for breaking curfew. But I want to know, I want to see!' Her face was troubled for a bit, butshe triednot to let it show. Soon,she had an epiphany.Christine gave asmall cry of excitement, earning a look fromMeg.

"I know! I couldn't believe they were havinga sale either!"

Christine rolled her eyes, smiled at Meg,and gave a non-committal grunt, then turned back to her revelation.

'I got it. If I hear anything unusual, I'll go out. If not, then I'll resign myself to having hallucinations.'

Staying awake was a bit harder than Christine thought. She and Meg talked until about one and it was all she could do to stayconscious in her warm, comfortable bed. Finally, at about 3 a.m., Christine heard the first signs of life outside her room. Faint piano music could be heard from somewhere inside the château. This was the sign Christine was waiting for. She slipped out of the bed with as little movement as possible. Meg shifted in her sleep a little, but was otherwise still. Christine pulled on her light blue silk robe and slipped on her flip-flops. She grabbed the key and her pocket flashlight and was out the door within seconds.

She followed the music down the stairs and past all the rooms that were on the tour. She was venturing into the unknown part of the château.Christine had no idea where she was going and had a slim chance of successfully finding her way back.

Christine's small flashlight did nothing to alleviate the darkness around her. On the contrary, it made her journey terrifying. Her adrenaline was racing. Every little creak was the footfall of an axe-murderer, every long shadow cast by her flashlight was death's specter to take her away.

The music did nothing to quell her fears either. The piece being played was dark and emotional, making her feel isolated and vulnerable. It entered her ears and nestled in her heart, almost driving her to uncontrollable sobbing. She felt completely hopeless.

'I hope this isn't what the composer is feeling,' she thought. 'He must be absolutely miserable.' She blinked back a few tears and carried onward.

The volume reached its highest level as Christine approached a pair of solid wood doors. The piece too had reached its crescendo-each note was packed with more sorrow than the one before it. She leaned up against the wall and let the music roll over her for a few more minutes. It took her away and transported her to a different reality. The song ended in a few minutes, but her journey did not.

Taking a breath, Christine opened the doors and marveled at what she saw. She first turned off the flashlight. The light of the full moon coming through the grand picture windows illuminated the important objects in the room-the most important of which was a grand piano. She slowly walked to the piano, noticing nothing else, not even the shadow to her left.

She ran her hand about an inch over the sleek black top and the keys, deciding not to touch it.

"To touch it would to be a sacrilege," she said quietly.

To her surprise, the stand was free of sheet music. Whoever had been playing had been composing. She was thoroughly impressed.

She took her eyes off the piano and surveyed the room for the first time. The high ceiling was acoustically perfect and various settees and chairs were scattered about the room, presumably at the points where the music could be appreciated fully. A balcony circled the majority of the room scattered with more chairs and settees.

Glancing once more at the instrument before her, she noted something she had not before: a fireplace was just a few feet from the piano. But something about this fireplace was different. She walked towards it and discovered its secret: it was _open_. Christine ran her hand over the opening and peered inside, wishing she had not put her flashlight down. Despite the ominous feeling that was now coursing through her veins, she decided to go one step further. She decided to go in to the fireplace.

Christine was on the threshold of the hidden door and was about to cross when she heard something she was not expecting at all. From directly behind her, a voice said, "What are you doing here?"


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: Really now? Where are all my reviews? Pwease? Anyways, enjoy!

Directionally Challenged

The voice was low and menacing, almost a growl. It was as if the man was a feral beast, guarding one of his most sacred secrets. He asked again, this time with greater intensity, "Why are you here?"

The voice sounded as if it was right behind her, like if she were to take one step back she would feel hia breath on her neck. She whipped around, eager to see the owner of such a voice, but was disappointed. Only moonlight met her eyes. Intrigued, she responded.

"I-I was curious. I couldn't sleep."

"You should not be out of bed. I have heard there are dangerous people about."

The voice was moving. Christine, not to be left behind, followed.

"Dangerous people? It's a good thing you're here to protect me then, isn't it?" said Christine with a smile in her voice.

A low chuckle. "How do you know I'm not one of those people?"

"Because if you were, you would have kidnapped me by now," came her witty response. Christine just hoped that she was not taking too great of a chance. She did not want to anger the owner of the voice; he sounded dangerous enough as it was.

"Perhaps I am lulling you into a false sense of security."

"Then I have something to look forward to, don't I?"

"Touché," he said in an amused tone.

Eager to keep their tenuous conversation going, Christine continued.

"So, about the fireplaces. Are they all like that?"

He was silent for a moment and Christine thought her strange guide had left her. A moment later, he replied, "Passages riddle this castle. It is impossible to know."

It was evident that he would not elaborate, so Christine had to be content with his vague response.

"You're than château's phantom, are you not?"

"I suppose I am."

"Was that you in the stable?"

"Yes," came his quick reply.

"Oh."

A few minutes of silence followed their short exchange. Her footsteps were the only one's echoing in the dark and deserted hallway.

"What's your name?"

"Erik. And yours?"

"Christine."

They were silent for the rest of the walk and Christine looked around for the first time since the start of their conversation. She was walking up the stairs to her room. She had not even noticed walking that far or that fast. All this time she had been talking to a disembodied voice, either above her or to her side, but always slightly ahead, leading her along the correct path.

She and the voice arrived at her door and Christine turned around, assuming the voice was not going to enter into her room. She looked into the dark, unsure about how to voice her next request.

"Listen, this whole time I've been talking to a voice. I was just wondering if perhaps…well, I'd, um, like to put a face to it, if you don't mind."

A tense silence followed. Christine was tomato-red from embarrassment.

'How could I have been so rash and hasty in my words? I feel like I broke some huge taboo. Crap, now he probably hates me, whoever he is. I wouldn't be surprised if he just-'

Her thoughts were suddenly stymied. From the ceiling dropped the owner of the voice. He landed gracefully on the floor, with much less noise than she expected. Christine jumped and gave a yelp, but recovered quickly to better regard her phantom.

He was a man of about 19 but dressed the part of an 1800's gentleman. His long legs were encased in fitted black pants that led up to a green-patterned silk cummerbund with matching tie. His white shirt was crisp and clean underneath his black jacket. He looked like he had just stepped out of an elegant ball and had to return for cocktails as soon as he finished escorting Christine.

His face was his most striking feature. But Christine was not captured by it for the reason she thought she would be. Half of his face was covered by a white porcelain mask. It was striking, no doubt. What held Christine's attention longer than his eccentric dress and her curiosity about what was behind the mask, however, were his eyes.

They were intensely green, clear and bright. They had a depth to them as well, not unlike her own eyes. Hidden beneath the intensity he was now looking at her with (which was making her slightly weak in the knees) was sadness. It was more than sadness, though. It was hurt. It was rejection of the cruelest kind.

It was hate.

People hated this man, for one reason or another, and it showed in his eyes.

She held his gaze for what felt like an eternity. When she looked down at his feet, she realized just how close they were. She could feel the heat coming off his body in waves. Looking back up into his eyes, she felt compelled to say something

"Nice suit."

He smiled. Unexpectedly, he closed the short gap between them and brushed his lips quickly and softly against hers.

Her first kiss.

Their connection was brief, but the feelings transmitted through the contact felt like an electric shock to her body. As soon as Christine realized what was going on, his lips were gone. No, more than that. _He_ was gone. Erik had disappeared into the dark of the castle, leaving Christine flushed andstanding at her door, not exactly knowing which way was up.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Thanks to the people who reviewed last time. Keep 'em coming!And, as always, enjoy.

Fast-forward, Flashback

**Ten years later…**

Christine and Meg embraced as they met at their favorite café for lunch.

"So Christine, what's the big news you have to tell me? You sounded excited over the phone."

"Meg, you are going to scream. Raoul and I are engaged."

Just a Christine predicted, Meg screamed. Quite loudly. The whole café turned their eyes to the scene in annoyance. Ignoring their stares, Meg continued to shriek. Christine laughed at her friend's reaction and brought her left hand to the table.

"Oh Christine! It's huge! Oh, look at it. How beautiful." Meg rattled on for a few minutes while Christine looked once again at the ring on her finger.

'Meg's right,' Christine thought, 'it _is_ huge.' The two and a half carat princess cut diamond felt like a weight on her hand. The band was thin with pink sapphires set on either side of the diamond. Christine liked the ring, but did not love it. It was too extravagant, too big, too flashy, too…girly. This was more than she, a foster child who had never had much of anything, thought she was worthy of. She knew the price tag alone was upwards of $7,000. The money was nothing for Raoul, though. He came from a rich family, never having to worry about whether or not he would have food that night. He bought thousand dollar cars without a second thought and pampered Christine with only the best. She took it all with a smile and an overabundance of gratitude (which Raoul always waved off). She was sometimes embarrassed, though, of Raoul's fine gifts.

"Christine? Christine? How did he do it? How did he propose?" Meg said, shaking Christine out of her thoughts.

"Well, he invited me over to dinner at his house…"

"You mean his mansion?" Meg interrupted with a smile.

"Yes, his _mansion_. Anyways, we had finished dinner and we were watching a movie on the couch and he just proposed."

"That's, um, cute…"

"Ha, I know. Raoul never was the romantic type. It definitely was not the way I imagined being proposed to, but it's alright." Christine had a wistful expression on her face and Meg, sensing Christine's malcontent, tactfully changed the subject.

"Oh, forget that!" Meg said. "You're going to be married!"

The two girls chatted about wedding details, but Christine's heart was not in it. She was thinking about what was going to happen within a few months, and how she wanted more than anything to visit France alone one last time before she was married.

XOX

To Christine's surprise, the usually over-protective Raoul had acquiesced to her request to visit France.

"I think it's a great idea. It'll be sort of like a little bachelorette party for you. I assume Meg is going as well?"

Christine had never been good at lying, and knew that if she tried it now, Raoul might change his mind. She had no option but to tell him the truth, or at least bits of it.

"Um, she might come, but I'm not really sure what her plans are."

"So you're going to be in France by yourself? Christine, I don't know…"

"Raoul, I am a grown woman. I can take care of myself. I do not always need protection, despite what you may think," she said sternly but smiling, arguing her case but not actually inciting an argument. "It'll be good for me," she continued. "Please?" She hated to demean herself to begging and pouting, but this tactic seemed to work on Raoul.

"Fine," he ceded. "But I want you to call me every night and tell me how you are and what you've been doing. I'll not have my fiancée getting into trouble!"

She rolled her eyes and gave him a quick hug.

"Thank you, Raoul. I'm so excited to go."

"Great," he said.

'Great,' Christine thought.

XOX

Once more, Christine said goodbye at the Air France terminal and, once more, Christine got slightly airsick. She landed in Paris, much like last time. Instead of boarding a rail to Rennes, she took a small outboard prop plane, which landed shakily at the small Rennes airport. This trip, there would be no Paris adventure. This trip, Christine was to spend two full weeks at the Château de Hac.

XOX

Ever since her evening with the phantom, her first kiss with Erik, Christine had changed. Her first kiss had exposed her to physical intimacy, something that she had missed before and had craved ever since. Almost immediately upon her return to the States, she came out of her shell and entered the social scene. She was popular with boys, dating many. But no matter how many boys kissed her and no matter how nice those kisses were at the time, none ever matched up to the feeling of her first kiss. They were too long or too short, too loose or too tight, too wet or too dry. They were all awkward or inappropriate. None were ever quite right.

Christine thought that had changed when she met Raoul. She literally ran into him when on her way out of her vocals class. Her music portfolio fell to the floor, papers scattering everywhere in the breeze. He helped her pick up her papers and they sat down under a tree, both of them missing their next class. It was a picaresque first meeting.

Her first kiss with Raoul surprised her. They were having coffee at the campus Starbucks. Raoul put his hand upon hers, drawing her eyes away from the window and onto his. Slowly, he leaned across the table and gave her a kiss.

Raoul's kiss was different from the one she experienced at the château. Not a bad different, not a good different. Simply different. It was an innocent kiss, pure. No passion was hidden beneath it. Not even the slightest trace of lust. If Christine were to match a color to his kiss, it would have been white.

Christine was 21.

To the untrained eye, the next three years of their courtship were ideal. Christine had met Raoul's family multiple times and had become like a daughter to them. The happy couple attended parties and shows and worked the social scene. Everyone thought they were perfect together.

Away from the public eye, Christine and Raoul's relationship nursed an ember of trouble. Since they had become a couple, Raoul was increasingly insistent on the topic of sex. He used every method to persuade Christine into lying with him: tears, guilt, anger, and threats. Despite his arguments, Christine held strong.

Sex with Raoul did not feel right to her. His insistence on the subject only put her off more, as did his threats of unfaithfulness and abuse. At first, Christine thought nothing of Raoul's threats. But as they kept mounting year by year, Christine had become more wary of Raoul's behavior.

The threats lasted until Raoul proposed in the middle of their fourth year together. Despite their issues, Christine thought loved Raoul and was sure she would be happy in her new life with him.Secretly, she was afraid that she would not find anyone better, as Raoul sometimes told her. And she always reassured herself that the spark their relationship sometimes lacked would burst into flame once they started their honeymoon.

Now, Christine was venturing back to the site of her awakening.

'I need this for me,' she thought, reassuring herself while holding on to the seat of the taxi. 'I am doing the right thing by visiting. I _am_.'

The taxi pulled up the Château de Hac after the white-knuckled ride.

'Welling, the driving style certainly has not changed much.'

She pulled her suitcase from the trunk of the cab and paid the driver. Then, she took her first look at the château in 10 years.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: Thank you all for your kind reviews! Keep 'em coming!

Recollections

The château had not changed much. Christine would have been surprised if it had. The turrets still stood high against the sky, the slate of the roof contrasting with the bright blue heavens. The limestone walls were still as intimidating as ever, but exuded a sense of safety for all who dwelled within them.

Christine was flooded with memories. Her whole trip to Paris flashed before her eyes - the sights, the sounds, the food, the people. She was not only looking forward to her two week long stay in the château, but also to exploring the near-by city of Rennes more thoroughly.

Christine checked in and was led to the same room at the top of the back turret. She decided to forego the tour this time, though. But before she left the room, she looked at her left hand. After a moment's hesitation, she pulled off Raoul's wedding ring.

'Why wear it while I'm here? Technically, I'm still single.'

This rationale, however faulty it was, was enough for Christine. Sheleft the room with a smile on her face and began to make her way down to the stables. She wanted to see if the filly she made friends with so long ago was still alive.

XOX

'I'm a fool for coming out here,' Erik thought. 'Ten years I've visited this stable. For ten years, I've traveled this disgusting underground corridor, hiding from the sun. I have yet to miss a day. But what do I come here for?'

'You expect to see her again, do you not?' came a scathing remark from the darker, more sinister part of his mind. 'She will never return. And if she did, why would she want to see a monster like you? No, you scared her enough the first time you saw her. Why would you want to scar an angel like her further?' It continued to talk, gentler now. 'Give it up. You have no one now. You never will. Leave. Go back into the castle, to your piano, to your books. For those are your true friends.'

Glaring into the stable from his roost in the loft one last time, Erik swung down, landed with cat-like silence, and entered the passage hidden in an abandoned stall.

He did not take his usual care to silently close the door. It swung down with a loud thud, causing the girl who had just entered the stable to jump a mile high.

XOX

"Hello?" Christine asked timidly. She thought she was alone in the stable. When she heard the thud, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Hello?" she ventured again, stronger this time. "Is anyone there?"

'Guess not,' she thought, and turned to look at the horses.

She was happy to see that Fraise was still at the stable. But instead of a filly, the ten years had turned Fraise into a beautiful, but old, horse. Prepared this time, Christine held our a few sugar cubes to the horse and stroked her gray-tinted nose.

"You are getting older, aren't you?" Christine teased. The horse nickered in reply, and Christine smiled. "Let's see who else is here," she said.

She walked around the barn, seeing four new carriage horses. She did not see Drôle and figured that his time had come, as it was surely coming for Fraise.

"There are two more horses out in the paddock, miss," said a voice from the back of the barn. Christine looked over and saw a stable boy of about 16 organizing bridles on the back wall.

"You are welcome to look at them, if you like."

He handed her a carrot and a few more sugar cubes.

"You can feed the light gray speckled one. Her name is Nacre. I wouldn't go near the black one, though."

"Why not?" Christine inquired.

"A couple reasons. One: he's the master's horse. And the master doesn't take too kindly to strangers touching his things. Second: Lance is a stallion. Third: even for a stallion, his temper is awful."

"Thanks for the warning," said Christine, heading outside.

"De rien. Have a good day, miss."

She walked towards the paddocks and immediately spotted Lance. The black stallion was indeed impressive, and very intimidating. He stood at least seven feet tall and looked heavy. He was munching on some grass when he spotted Christine approaching. He lifted his head and regarded her steadily with one eye. She stopped for a moment, then continued on her path to get a closer look at him. Christine expected the great stallion to spook, neigh, or maybe even charge her. What she did not expect was exactly what happened: Lance took a few steps closer to the thin fence separating them and resumed eating without giving her a second glance.

'He doesn't seem _that_ unfriendly.'

Christine heard a nicker from the paddock to her right.

"Nacre," she said aloud. The horse pricked up her ears and walked to the fence to greet Christine.

"'Mother-of-pearl', a very appropriate name." The horse tossed her head, as if agreeing whole-heartedly with Christine's obvious observation. She fed the mare the carrot and the sugar the stable boy had given her, bid both horses farewell, and headed inside for dinner.

She looked back over her shoulder to see both horses staring at her retreating figure. She decided that tomorrow she would go for a ride.

XOX

Christine was once more delighted by the wonderful French meal provided for her by the château. One of the unique aspects of the château was that there was no such thing as room service. If one wanted food, one had to come down to the dining room and eat. It was advisable to eat during the planned meal times as well; the cooks were not too keen to fire up their stoves once they had finished cooking. Also, instead of separate tables, one big table was placed in the center of the dining room. All the guests had to eat together, which encouraged conversation.

She looked around the table. At one end sat two older men, probably in their 50's and gay by the look of it. A few chairs down from them sat a honeymooning couple. Next to them sat the guide, a much older Mme. DesChanels. Christine was afraid she would be recognized, but as she sat down across from the guide, she realized she had nothing to worry about. Mme. DesChanels had probably seen more people than Christine ever would. The chances of her remembering a silly girl from 10 years ago was very slim.

The guide looked at Christine and smiled, initiating small talk while food was being served. Her flight, her school, her family, and the weather were some of the topics of interest. Conversation then turned to the château.

"I did not see you on the tour this morning," the guide remarked.

"Oh, no. I went to the stables instead. I've been here before, so I know the history."

"There is more to the tour than just the history of the château now," she replied in a slightly condescending tone. "New rules have recently been put in to place."

This caught all of Christine's attention and she listened intently to what they were so she could better formulate plans to get around them.

"First, not wandering the castle at night, while not necessarily a rule, is very strongly stressed. A few incidents have occurred that have been cause for some concern. It's nothing to worry about, of course," she said quickly, mistaking Christine's curious expression for one of fear. "It's just that more people have reported seeing a strange figure roaming about the house. It's more for liability purposes than anything else."

"Number two: the south-west wing of the castle is off-limits to all guests. That particular wing is inhabited by the master of the Château de Hac and he is loathe to lose his privacy. It is clearly marked as well, so there will be no mistakes."

"And lastly, transportation. We have a few taxis that run to and from the city from 8 a.m. to 10 p.m. Later than that, you will have to stay in town or walk. Luckily, it is only about a 15 minute walk, which is not bad at all."

"Thank you," said Christine. 'I'll have to be much more careful now,' she thought. But before she could lose herself in her musings, she remembered to ask how exactly how she should go about scheduling a ride tomorrow.

XOX

Before she retired, Christine kept her promise of calling Raoul. More than anything, she just wanted to crawl into bed, but at the same time, did not want to risk Raoul's anger at her. When she called, he at first sounded relieved that she had called, then annoyed that she was keeping him so long. Christine heard a voice in the background, the voice of a female, and asked who was at the house.

"Oh, it's only Mother," Raoul said.

Christine's face was filled with skepticism, but she voiced no question to Raoul about it. A few minutes later, they exchanged a short good-bye. Her conversation with Raoul left something to be desired, but she decided she was not going to dwell on the possibility of his lying.

'He's never lied to me before,' she reasoned. 'Or not that I know of, at least...'

With this uneasy thought in her head, she tried to sleep. After tossing and turning for a bit, she softly turned on some classical music - her guaranteed remedy for insomnia. It worked like a charm. Christine drifted off to sleep in no time to the beautiful music of age's past.


	10. Chapter 10

A Trip

Christine woke at the bright and early time of 7 a.m. Understandably, she was tired. And her unenergetic state was not aided by the fact that she had stayed awake until 1 a.m. listening intently for piano music.

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she put on some of her casual clothes and headed to the stables. She met another stable worker, this time an older man, probably the father of the boy she met yesterday.

"Bonjour," he greeted. "My name is M. Rockford. My family works the stable and tends to the horses. Mme. DesChanels has informed me that you would like to go riding today."

"Yes, I would like that very much," she replied, immediately comfortable with the man's easy-going nature.

"And which horse do you want to ride? Any preference?"

"Nacre," she said, without much hesitation.

"D'accord. A good choice, miss, if I do say. I will teach you how to tack her up, that way you will be able to ride her whenever she is free for your entire stay."

Christine's face lit up at his generous offer. For the next half-hour, Christine was M. Rockford's pupil. She intently listened as he explained what each piece of equipment was for, proper grooming techniques, and the correct commands to use. The pearly gray horse stood patiently as Christine learned, only drawing attention to herself for a pat or food.

After practicing a bit in an outdoor arena, both Christine and M. Rockford were confident that she would perform flawlessly. Nacre and Christine seemed made for each other. The horse obeyed Christine's every command immediately upon receiving it. They worked as if they had been horse and rider for years. M. Rockford told her to stay on the paths and sent her on her way with a smile.

She walked the mare down one of the many paths leading into the woods. She tried to remember her path, but she lost track. Luckily, Nacre seemed to know them instinctively. Christine was confident that she would arrive home.

The forest was beautiful. Christine was convinced that it was the original Garden of Eden. The trees were tall and full of sun-splattered green leaves. The different shades she saw reminded her of the eyes she had gazed into 10 years earlier. The same depth of both color and soul could be seen in the green canopy hanging over Christine's head. A small brook flowed in the distance on her right and Christine made a mental note to follow it on her next ride.

The forest thinned out and Nacre stepped into a long, flat stretch of valley. She felt Nacre tense expectantly beneath her, and for a moment, wondered if the horse could read her mind.

"Let's go, Nacre!" She nudged the horse with her heels, let loose the reigns, and flew. Trees passed at an almost alarming speed. The wind whipped Christine's curly brown hair back and her amber eyes started to sting and water. Her body moved with the horse's. Their muscles tensed and flexed together. If a person had been present to witness Christine's ride, they would have sworn that horse and girl had merged, creating one beautiful creature.

Christine felt a freedom she never had before and loved every second of it.

'This is how I want to spend my days,' she thought. 'This is what I want. I want to be my own person, free to do what I want, when I want. Everyday, I want to fly like this.'

Nacre cantered around the valley and ended her run at the entrance to the woods. They took a different route home; one that allowed Nacre a well-deserved drink of crisp water.

Two hours after she left, the mare and the girl arrived back at the stables. She met with M. Rockford once more. She told him about her ride and he showed her how to rub the horse down. She then led Nacre out to her paddock.

"I'll see you tomorrow, I hope," she said to the horse, giving her an apple. Nacre happily accepted the parting gift and after chewing, went to go roll in the dirt.

XOX

He resolved to stop thinking of her. Because of this, Erik had been completely uninspired that evening. He tried to compose, but a wall had been put up in his mind. He tried to play, but his fingers stumbled along the keys. Even when he did strike the correct note, it sounded out of tune and sour in his ears.

He got no sleep.

The second day of his new resolution was the second day of no inspiration. He almost cried in frustration.

'What cruel fate has destined to torture me? Thinking of her is torture, but yet I can compose. Not thinking of her is torture and I lose my inspiration. Which is the lesser of two evils? Which is the lesser torture?'

To clear his mind, he ventured into the stables.

'You hope to see her again,' jeered one part of his mind.

'No, no I do not. This is simply to clear my head,' the other part rationalized.

But he knew which one was correct.

XOX

He waited for silence underneath the trapdoor. Unfortunately, that silence never came. The shuffling of the old stable worker was soon joined by a fresh-sounding step and the hooves of a horse.

'Must be his wife,' he thought, wondering how he could scare the couple away. He slowly opened the door and was about to noisily knock over a bucket when he heard the most beautiful, and slightly familiar, voice. It was a natural voice, unaffected by pretentious airs and condescending lilts that were often developed by those visiting the château. It had a pleasing tone and pitch. Just from the way she talked, he could tell she was a singer. He fought the temptation to rise above the stable door to get a peek and instead imagined how he could, no _would_ manipulate her voice to perfection.

'But where have I heard this voice? Where?'

Erik heard her soft stride get fainter. She was leaving the barn. This was his queue to follow. He quickly re-entered the trapdoor and took the appropriate turns to put him on the balcony above one of the château's entrances.

That was when he saw her.

'She's here. After 10 years, she has returned. She remembers. She must. I have to see her, to talk to her, to have her.' "Christine…" he whispered.

He saw her pause mid-step and look around her. She glanced up at the balcony and stared right where Erik was standing. He was confident that he could not be seen. He lurked in the shadows all of the time, of that he made sure. And after so many years of practice, it became second nature to him.


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: As always, thanks for all your kind reviews. They really are appreciated. I am a bit afraid of what the response will be to this chapter; you'll see why when you read. Happy reading!

The Town

After hallucinating about hearing her name while entering the castle and swearing she saw a man lurking in the shadows of the balcony, Christine decided that she badly needed a shower.

Instead of hanging around the château for the evening, she decided to go see the town of Rennes. She told Mme. DesChanels of her intention. The docent promptly called a cab for Christine and gave her a brief description of the city's attractions.

The cab ride was not nearly as frightening as the first time and Christine arrived in the city with minimal queasiness. She strolled the cobblestone streets at an easy pace, tripping more than once over the uneven sidewalks. She ignored the various cat-calls and pick-up lines that were carelessly tossed her way while she was walking. One fellow was quite insistent and she had to actually tell him that she was not interested in what he had to offer her. She stopped in each boutique, making a few purchases: a cute shirt and a dainty teacup for Meg to add to her collection, a polo shirt for Raoul. For herself, Christine splurged on a cookbook of French cuisine, a French opera CD, a dark blue shirt, and fun multi-colored cocktail dress. She had the purchases delivered to the château for her convenience. She did not realize that by the time she finished shopping, it was 9 p.m.

'Time for dinner,' Christine thought as her stomach gave a mighty growl. She walked into a chic looking restaurant. She absorbed the posh atmosphere: a swanky bar that served only the finest drinks and small tables perfect for intimate conversation.

Christine weaved her way between the tables and snagged a window seat. She enjoyed being able to watch the pedestrians that passed. She observed their faces, postures, and overall air, imagining the lives they lived. It was the perfect form of amusement.

A ritzy old woman was the first character to pass the window. She was dressed in a leopard-print silk dress with gold bangles dangling from her wrists. Her lips were red, her eyes hidden by expensive-looking sunglasses. 'That old woman is a proud grandmother, but dislikes her son-in-law because of his social status,' Christine thought. 'That man is an ex-convict desperately trying to get his life back on the straight and narrow, but he is failing miserably,' she thought as a tattooed and miserable looking man passed. Two disgruntled-looking children were clutching their mother's skirt. 'And whining, by the look of their faces,' Christine thought. 'They want ice cream.'

She continued her observations through dinner .By the time Christine finished her meal, it was about 9:45.It was increasingly difficult to move through the sea of people.

'Crap, I have to get to the cab. And it's all the way across town!'

She paid her bill, but by then, it was too late. She resigned herself to walking.

'Well, since I have to walk, I might as well stay a little longer,' she thought, fighting her way to the bar. She ordered a drink and made her way to a corner to observe the Rennes nightlife. Young boys, 'Barely legal…' Christine guessed, were getting drunk and hitting on equally drunk and young girls. 'Ha, "young love"' Christine silently scoffed.

She finished her drink and decided it was time to leave.

'Hm, leaving at 10:30 at night in a strange citywithout a flashlight may not have been the best idea,' thought Christine. She walked from the cobblestone street to the gravel road that would take her to the château.

'At least the moon is out. The darkness is a bit more tolerable with the moon.'

When Christine was about 10 minutes from the château, the moon went behind a thick and ominous cloud. The gentle moonlight was all but extinguished. She was enveloped in almost total darkness now. Her only guides were the faint pinpricks of light from the château.

Christine suddenly had the feeling that she was not the only one to wander that lonely gravel road. She swore she heard a whisper.

'No, it's just the trees. The wind has picked up, that's all.' She looked at a tree to confirm her idea. It was still.

Christine heard the crunch of gravel beneath feet behind her.

"Just an animal, just an animal, just an animal," she whispered to herself, her voice cracking with fear.

Her fear was quickly mounting. The crunches, which she was certain now were footfalls, picked up pace. Christine broke into a run, but the being behind her had anticipated this move. He caught up to her easily. Full on sprinting now, Christine screamed in fright and pain as she felt fingers twine into her hair, pulling her backwards in an attempt to stop her. It worked. She instinctively turned around to lessen the pain.

It was then that Christine came face to face with her attacker. She had seen him before.

"You. You were the man on the street."

"Bingo," he growled, still holding fast to her hair.

Not knowing what else to do, Christine started to fight back. She reached her hands up and attacked his fist in her hair. She pinched, scratched, and clawed at his hands, feeling her nails dig deeper into his flesh with each raking, drawing his blood. Despite her abuse, he held fast, chuckling at her useless attempts. He had total control of her head, drawing her face close to his. His breath stung her nose. The astringent smell of alcohol made her gorge rise. He gave a cruel smile and Christine knew what was to come. His lips came crashing down onto her own, hurting and bruising. She whipped her head back and forth, hoping to throw off his disgusting mouth, but to no avail. He kept hold, now trying to force his tongue beyond her lips.

While his one hand was holding her head still, his other hand roamed over her body, harshly fondling her breasts and traveling up her skirt and trying to rip off her thin underwear. She thrashed her limbs, hitting and scratching him, trying to escape. She finally got an opening and brought her knee to his groin. This was the trigger. His hands came loose at once and he groaned in pain.

She started running again, putting distance between them. Christine thought she had successfully escaped, but her attacker recovered more quickly than she expected. He ran at her and tackled her to the ground. She fell face first onto the unforgiving gravel path, scarping her arms and chin. The man turned her over and was now straddling her. He slapped her in the face once, twice. Blood trickled from her nose and the corner of her mouth.

Christine was desperate. But no matter how much she struggled, she could not move him. Still, she fought. Tears were streaming down her face. She suffered another dazing blow to the face and blacked out a little bit.

It was as if she was lifted from her physical body, floating above it, watching what was happening with the horrified curiosity of a passerby. She watched herself put up only the smallest bit of resistance as the man pulled her skirt up around her waist and undid his zipper, unleashing the horror that Christine was inevitably going to experience.

All of a sudden, she was out of the air and back into her body. She braced herself for the pain she knew was coming. But the degradation never came. Instead, the weight of her assaulter was lifted from her. Christine could barely see through her tears. She curled up on the gravel, scared and embarrassed. She retreated into herself.

A mist was edging into the corner of her eyes.

Two indistinct figures were grappling close to her.

Darker now, the mist left only a small circle of vision.

Muffled grunts of a man who was now immobile on the ground.

Her world faded into blackness.

Christine felt herself being gently lifted by a pair of strong arms. The body that carried her was warm; Christine felt safe. She wanted to open her eyes, but knew she could not. Instead, she stopped struggling against her body and slipped into the comforting darkness of the unconscious.


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Note: Kind of a short chapter, but you all can consider it the beginning of the "Erik" stage of the story. Please review and, above all, enjoy!

Savior

He saw her descend into the taxi, fighting the urge to call her name and stop her.

'Damn it,' he thought. He would not be able to study her tonight.

Uneventful hours passed and Erik did not move from his post above the door. 10 p.m. arrived.

'She should return now,' he thought as he anxiously watched the last cab drive up to the château. The driver exited and took his evening smoke. No one else left the car.

His annoyance, and concern, mounted.

'Fine, she stayed in the city. She'll be back soon,' he assured himself.

He sat on the balcony for 20 more minutes, even though it felt like 20 weeks. After 10 additional minutes of interminable waiting, his impatience bested him.

Erik quickly walked to the stables and bridled his horse, Lance. He decided to forego the saddle, for time's sake. The black rider then charged out of the barn atop his black horse, determined to ride into the city and find Christine.

'And after you find her?' chimed in the reasonable part of his brain.

He ignored this doubt and the million other questions that were now worming their way into his brain and focused on the road ahead. He noticed the moon moved behind the clouds and that the slight breeze that was usually ever-present in Rennes, was absent.

In the distance, he heard shouts, scuffling, a muted crying. Lance slowed to a walk, apprehensive of what scene the night had in store. Dismounting, Erik told his steed to stay put. Slowly, cautiously, he crept towards the noise. Two figures came into his view, a little difficult to see due to the lack of moonlight. One was atop the other, and he obviously was not wanted there. Erik was three feet away when he saw her.

"Christine."

He felt his anger take over him as he ripped the man from Christine's body. His fists flew, each one delivering the retribution he felt the man deserved. The man was shocked for a moment, but soon fought back; an 'oomph' was heard as the man landed a lucky kick in Erik's stomach. That was the only blow he landed though. Erik dodged the attacker's next swings and punched him in the face. A sickening crunch was heard as the man's nose broke. A final blow to the back of the neck and he was down, bleeding profusely. Erik stood triumphantly over his foe, relishing the feeling of absolute control.

His victory was short-lived however. He immediately remembered the reason for his anger: a beaten Christine. He was at her side in an instant. She was curled up in a ball, still and stiff. She looked like a porcelain doll that had be dropped in the mud and trod upon; she looked broken.

He knelt by her and said her name a few times with no response. Checking her pulse, he knew she was still alive. Carefully, he picked her up and held her to his chest for a moment, amazed at how light and fragile she felt, but how she seemed to fit into his arms, as if she belonged no other place. Gently, Erik placed her on Lance, leading them both back to the castle.

XOX

He carried Christine back to his room and gently laid her on the bed. Sweeping her hair away from her slightly bloodied face, he took his first clear look at her. She had changed little. If anything, she was more beautiful. She had grown into her fragile features and had matured, becoming a lovely young woman. Her chocolate brown curls were soiled with dust and dirt, yet they still surrounded her head like an aura of beauty. She had tender, perfectly shaped lips, despite the blood slowly creeping out the corners. He could distinguish high cheekbones, which were now bruised, but still giving the impression of royal lineage. Her body was petite and lithe. He could tell she was well-muscled. Her long legs looked like they had power and grace hidden within them, waiting for the right moment to emerge.

'Maybe she dances,' he thought hopefully.

He wanted to observe her all day, taking in her beauty feature by feature. But he could no longer ignore the girl's pitiful condition. Christine was still out cold. Whether she was simply sleeping now or still experiencing shock, he knew not. She had scraped on her chin, palms, and lower arms, some deep and embedded with gravel. She had a fat lip and a black eye. Several bruises were forming on her arms, neck, and stomach. They were a deep purple color now, but he knew they would soon turn a sick yellow-green.

'Nothing should be allowed to mar such beautiful skin,' he thought, gently running his fingers over her bruises.

Erik went to work. He cleaned and bandaged her wounds as best he could. Ice was placed on her various contusions, causing her to flinch. She still did not wake. Placing a wet cloth on her forehead, he waved a vial of smelling salts beneath her nose.

She moved her head quickly and opened her eyes wide, scared and unsure about where she was. She panicked and tried to launch herself up into a sitting position. She would have succeeded too, if it were not for Erik's hand across her chest, restraining her.

"Where am I? Who are you? What happened? Why…" she sputtered in a slightly raspy voice.

"Shh, calm down. Clam down. You need your rest. Try to get some sleep. You are safe here."

He looked into Christine's amber eyes and saw a flicker of recognition. Since her outburst had sapped her of what little energy she had left, as soon as Erik suggested she lay down, she complied. Soon after, she fell into a deep sleep.

"Sleep," he whispered to her, touching her hair tenderly.

"Sleep."


	13. Chapter 13

Author's Note: He's baaaack!

Arrangements

Christine woke up the next day in extreme pain. Her head was thrumming and her body was stiff. She attempted to rise, but in vain. Memories from last night rushed back to her. The town…a man…blackness…pain…fear…a savior…a horse…a pungent smell…green eyes…safety. Christine gasped in amazement that she was still alive. She thought for sure that she would not survive the night.

She had a pretty good idea of the identity of the man who saved her, but needed to confirm her guess. She tried to get up again, slowly. Her body screamed in protest, but she struggled against it. Eventually, she managed to sit. Christine looked down at her body to survey the damage: bruises covered her arms, intermingling with lacerations from the gravel road. To her relief, she found she was in her clothes from last night. She felt grimy and disgusting, but was still grateful for her privacy.

'Not like that matters much from the state I was in last night,' she recalled with a frown.

She surveyed the room. The walls were cream, accented with crimson. The original cherry wood was still present, a motif throughout the château. The plasma television on the wall and the expensive-looking stereo system did not clash with the fine interior like Christine expected. Instead, the modern equipment gave the room a feel of chic antiquity. Like all of the rooms, a huge fireplace stood against the wall.

"Where am I?" she said, thinking aloud.

"Safe."

The reply came from the far side of the room, where Christine looked first with fear, then with gratitude. She recognized the voice. Not only that, but she recognized the man.

"Erik," she breathed, hardly louder than the rustle of his clothes as he moved towards her.

'Ten years did little to change him,' she thought, surveying him as he walked.

He was taller now, his face more mature. Other than that, he looked very much the same: same style of dress, same sleek black hair, same mysterious white mask. His gait was slow and purposeful, powerful and intimidating. Reaching the side of the bed, he stood over her for a second. She looked into his eyes and shivered with anticipation. Christine did not know what she was waiting for, but was confused at a twinge of disappointment as he simply sat down beside her. Both were silent for a moment, relishing their reunion, the reunion that neither thought would happen.

"The bathroom is the door to the left," he said matter-of-factly. "You willfind that everything you need is provided. Breakfast will be ready whenever you finish. If you need anything, do not hesitate to call."

"Erik," she said softly. She loved the feel of his name on her lips. She looked down and twiddled the sheets in her hands. "Thank you."

She could feel his eyes on her, burning through her skin and into her very soul, searching it for sincerity. As much as she wanted to meet his gaze, she was afraid of what she would see.

"You are welcome," he said just as softly. He stood and walked to the door as Christine sat in the bed, mulling over all that had passed.

XOX

Her shower was nothing short of heavenly. By the time she was out, Christine felt like a new person. The warm water had relaxed her muscles. Even though bruises still marred her fair skin, she could move without much pain. Toweling off, she was surprised to see that a pile of her clothes had been left on the shelf.

'A man picking out my clothes? Hm, hopefully he has better taste than Raoul…' She remembered one incident where he had asked her if he could pick out what she was to wear that day. It was hideous; Raoul hadpicked out the most scandalous pieces in her wardrobe. Christine wore it, though. Not with a grin, as such, but secure with the knowledge that Raoul was happy.

To her satisfaction, the outfit was quite fashionable. Everything matched and was appropriate. Christine was impressed.

Christine left the bathroom and walked to the door through which Erik had exited. She turned the knob and pulled the door forward when she walked into something hard. With an "oomph", Christine reeled back slightly. When she saw that the object she had walked into was Erik, or rather, Erik's chest, she started to blush madly. Uncomfortable, she mumbled an apology while staring intently at the floor.

Noticing her discomfort, Erik gave a small smile. "Come. Breakfast is this way."

Christine heard his smile and blushed even harder at the thought of his amusement at her expense. 'I'm a grown woman,' she silently scolded herself, 'not a tittering teenager. Get a grip, Christine!'

She enjoyed a delicious but slightly awkward breakfast of croissants and jam. Conversation was limited to the weather and her stay in France. Christine wondered if they would ever press upon the more interesting topics.

"So," she started, helping Erik clear the table and hoping to inspire conversation.

"I will take you back to your room now. You should rest," he stated, trying, but failing, to ignore Christine's fallen expression.

Aware that she did not mask her disappointment, Christine quietly agreed.

"Do you remember your question about the fireplaces? If they existed throughout the castle?"

Christine smiled and nodded. 'He remembers!' she thought excitedly.

"They do," Erik said, and before Christine could see where his hand went, the fireplace opened to reveal a dark and dry passageway. He stepped over the threshold and looked back at a gaping Christine. He held out his hand, which she took after only a moment's hesitation.

She gave a start as the secret door closed behind her. "How did you find out about these?"

"The first one was an accident. As for the rest, I knew what to look for."

"And what did you look for?" Christine asked, hoping he would fall for the trap.

He gave a small chuckle and looked back at her with amusement in his eyes and a grin dancing on his lips. "It is different for each fireplace, but I would not go searching for them. Traps are set throughout the paths, just in case. And over 100 tunnels exist to my knowledge. If you venture into one of them without a guide, well, you may not come back out again."

"But you know where you're going?" she questioned.

"More or less."

"That's encouraging," she said. He laughed quietly and led her onwards. In about two minutes, Erik flipped another hidden switch and Christine found herself walking out her own fireplace.

"Thank you, Erik, for everything."

"De rien, ma cherie," he responded, still holding her hand. He was about to turn back when Christine said, "Stop."

His eyes betrayed his surprise, but he recovered quickly.

"I want to see you again," she said, a little startled at herself for her boldness.

He hesitated for a moment, as if thinking about her proposal. With one hand behind her back, Christine crossed her fingers.

"Meet me at the entrance of the south-west wing at 10 p.m. tonight. And wear comfortable clothes."

Erik lifted her hand to his lips, placing upon it a soft kiss while staring deeply into her amber eyes. He walked into the fireplace, leaving Christine with a fluttering heart and the silliest concern of what she was going to wear.


	14. Chapter 14

Author's Note: Ah! The story is half-way posted already! Where does the time go? Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. And as always, I love to hear your thoughts, so please leave a review!

Riding and Soaring

Christine wanted nothing more than to sleep the day away in her room, but knew that she had a few responsibilities to take care of before she relaxed. The first of which was Raoul. She had obviously not been able to call him last night and was afraid to call him today.

'I wouldn't, but I don't want to imagine his reaction if I neglect to call him two days in a row…'

She picked up the phone with a shaky hand and slowly dialed his number. The line was picked up on the first ring.

"Hello, Raoul?" she said in a small voice.

"Christine!" came his angry reply. "I order you to call me every night, an instruction that I did not think so difficult to obey, but evidently I was incorrect." He launched into his triade immediately, not even giving Christine time to take a breath after her greeting.

"But Raoul," she tried to interrupt. "I was in town last night and…"

"I do not want to hear your excuses right now, Christine. I told you to call me and you disobeyed. I think you should come home right now."

His suggestion horrified Christine; she almost dropped the phone. 'Explaining what happened to me isn't going to work…not like I would have told him the truth anyways…' The thought of telling Raoul the truth terrified her even more. 'He would have had the whole of Rennes arrested and probably come here himself to make sure I was alright.'

"Christine? You should come home. Here, I'll even book your plane ticket."

"No! Raoul, please let me stay. I've only just begun my vacation. I'm sorry that I didn't call you last night. I was being careless and stupid. Please let me stay?" Christine begged, trying her best to sound sincere. "I promise I'll be more careful. Please?"

Raoul was silent for a moment, thinking it over. Finally, he responded. "Fine, Christine. But one more slip up, and you are coming home. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Raoul."

"Good. You obviously don't have to call me tonight, but you had better call me tomorrow. Understand?"

Christine rolled her eyes and fought to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. He was talking to her as if she was a child, and she hated it.

"Yes, Raoul, I understand. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Goodbye Christine."

Christine was about to say goodbye, but Raoul had already hung up the phone. She pulled the receiver away from her ear and glared at it, imagining it to be Raoul's head. She sighed, exasperated at his behavior.

'At least I can get on with my day now,' she thought.

Christine dressed in a long-sleeved shirt to hide the bruises on her arms and used concealer to cover the bruises on her face, putting on a hat to further veil her visage. She left the room only to assure the docent that she had arrived back at the château safely and to grab a bit of food and ice from the kitchens. For the rest of the day, Christine remained in her room, nursing her bruises and trying to read, but thinking about what the night was to bring instead.

XOX

Christine snuck out her room at a quarter to 10, ready to shift and dodge through the castle in order to reach the forbidden south-west wing. She had a few close encounters with the night crew, but escaped into the shadows before they would get a clear look at her.

She reached the wing earlier than she anticipated. Christine wondered why he asked her to meet him here. The question was not pondered too heavily, though, as she soon spotted a figure moving towards her from out of the shadows.

Erik's deep voice floated to her ears. "You are ready?"

"Where are we going?"

"This way," he responded, intentionally giving her a vague answer. She rolled her eyes and followed him closely to their mysterious destination. Erik opened a fireplace, again too quickly for Christine to see where the trigger was. They entered together, walking down the dark passage, Erik slightly in the lead, lighting their path with his small flashlight. Christine noticed a slight temperature change.

'We're outside,' she thought, happy that she had kept on her long-sleeved shirt. They approached a flight of stairs which led to a door. Christine instantly recognized the earthy smell of hay and manure. She smiled.

"We're going riding," more of a statement than a question.

He reached for Nacre's tack and was about to get started when Christine intervened. Taking the equipment out of Erik's hands, she said, "I can take it from here, thanks." He looked doubtful for a moment, but a look from Christine made him relinquish the saddle and prepare his own horse, Lance.

Ten minutes later, the couple left the barn atop their horses. The night was clear with just a slight breeze. Christine's hair blew back from her face lightly as she lifted her eyes to the heavens. The whole cosmos was spread out before her. Millions of stars twinkled brightly, almost outshined by the full moon. The light it cast lit their path sufficiently. Instead of the eerie feeling the moonlight lent to the scenery the night before, the night she was attacked, everything was now soft and ethereal.

The spirits of the forest came alive with the moonlight. Nocturnal animals moved in the dense brush. Crickets chirped softly and the low hoot of an owl sometimes punctuated the night. The trees themselves seemed able to talk. Their leaves rustled in the light wind and their trunks settled further into the earth with a creak. The experience was enchanting.

"This is beautiful," said Christine quietly, trying not to disturb the music of the night.

"Yes, beautiful." Erik shot a meaningful look at Christine. She blushed and looked down with a smile.

"Do you come out here often?" she asked.

"I go riding about four or five days a week and visit the stables almost everyday." 'Everyday since you left,' he added silently.

"Is that how you can ride Lance then? Not everyone can tame a stallion."

Erik looked down at his steed and gave him a hearty pat on the neck. "I would not say that I have tamed him. I have found that when you spend so much time with one so wild, an understanding develops. I am merely lucky he tolerates me."

"Well, he seems to like you as well," Christine said, noting the stallion's more-than-contented demeanor.

"Yes, that helps as well."

Christine's gentle laugh drifted for a moment and disappeared into the night. They were silent for a while, enjoying their calm ride through the night.

Christine decided that enough time had passed and determined that now was the right moment to approach the subject that had eluded their conversations thus far.

"Do you remember that night 10 years ago?"

"Every second of it," he replied without hesitation.

"That was…what did…" she faltered. Erik was silent, patiently waiting for her to continue. "I haven't forgotten either," she finished lamely. Despite her dumb reply, she was gaining confidence now. "I wanted to, to forget, you know. I thought it would be silly to hang on to the idea that I would ever see you again. But I haven't been able to forget. And I'm glad that I didn't."

"It's fate," he said simply.

"Maybe," she replied with a smile. "Maybe."

XOX

They returned to the barn and Erik took her back through the passage.

"I don't want this to end, Erik. I want to keep remembering."

"Then you shall," he said. Bidding her goodnight, he gently kissed her hand, which had been enclosed in his for the majority of the evening.

Christine watched the fireplace door slide shut, and smiled broadly. Changing and rethinking the evening, she crawled into bed, a silly smile still spread across her lips. As soon as her head hit the pillow, Christine descended into a peaceful sleep.

XOX

Christine woke up in a good mood that was only brightened when she saw a letter on her desk. It was from Erik.

_Christine- _

_Let's keep remembering. Meet me at the same time in the same place._

_-Erik_

She was more perturbed at the shortness of the letter than the fact that he was at one point in her room while she was asleep. He gave no other details, which made her somewhat nervous. She pushed the thought out of her mind, though.

'I have until 10 tonight. I must find something with which to occupy my time.'

She decided that, because of her bruises, which were now a sickly green color, the pool was out of the question. Donning a long sleeved shirt and hat to avoid questions, Christine decided that the library would be a good place to occupy her time. She ventured through the corridors, easily finding the library. Plush couches and tables were scattered amidst the numerous bookshelves. Looking in the classic section, Christine located a book that piqued her interest. It was Return of the Native by Thomas Hardy. She immersed herself into it, wrapping herself in the plot and the characters.

The hours passed slowly. After a few hours in the library, she headed up to her room to call Meg, and more importantly, Raoul. Soon, the clock read 9:50 p.m. Christine left and met Erik at 10 o'clock on the dot.

Erik greeted her and, taking her hand, led her to a familiar place. It was the music room, the room in which she had first encountered Erik and his music. She was about to ask a question when Erik shushed her.

"We can talk later. Right now, I want to hear you sing."

"How do you know I can sing?" Christine asked. She did not remember telling him about her life at all.

"I can hear it in the way you speak," he said. "Now ready yourself."

Christine felt like she was in one of her college classes again. She positioned herself as Erik took her through scales to warm up her voice. When he was pleased, he started her on an easy piece, obviously trying to gauge her talent. She sang it without one flaw, so he moved up to a more difficult piece. A few pieces later and Christine was singing advanced arias that made Erik's heart soar.

He decided to really test her talent and handed her a piece that he composed.

"'Think of Me'?" she asked. "You wrote this?"

He nodded and gave her time to look over the aria.

Confidently, Christine said, "I'm ready."

She began to sing, hesitant at first because of the unfamiliarity of the tune and lyrics. Soon though, her voice gained power and confidence. By the end of the aria, Christine's voice had soared. Like a bird, it alighted from her mouth and ascended to the rafters. From there, it reverberated off the ceiling and flew out the door, sweeping down the halls, losing volume, but not beauty.

The last note was sung, and the song was finished. Erik rested for a moment, in awe of the talent he had just witnessed. 'With my music,' he thought proudly.

Recovering from his initial shock, he then launched into his criticism. Christine took it with grace.

"You are great," he explained, "but you are not perfect. Not yet."

They practiced only a little more; Erik did not want to strain Christine's voice. He invited her to sit while he fetched tea. He seated himself in a massive leather chair facing the loveseat on which Christine was comfortably lounging.

"Now," he said, "we can talk."


	15. Chapter 15

Author's Note: Time for Part One of the history lesson! I took a different approach with explaining Erik's history than with the rest of the story; I hope I made the right decision! Thank you all for your kind reviews. I look forward to your thoughts! Enjoy!

Finding Darkness

Christine had been waiting for this moment from the first time she encountered Erik. For 10 years, her mind reeled with questions. Now, when she finally had a chance to find out everything, not one of those million questions came to mind. She stared at him in stupid silence while he regarded her intently, a smile playing in his eyes.

"No questions for me?" he teased.

"A million," she laughed, "just none that can find their way out of my mind."

"Then I guess I will just begin. I was-"

"How did you get here? What happened? How long have you lived here? Why are you-"

He rolled his eyes and raised a hand to stop her endless stream of questions. "All in good time. Now, as I was saying…"

XOX

Most children, when they are first born, are received into the world with loving coos and the gift of a name. The first thing Erik heard as a child was a scream. Or rather, multiple screams. The doctor, the nurses, his father, then, the loudest of all, his mother. The few minutes after his birth, the screams, the fear…all would remain a trend while Erik abided in Paris, the City of Lights.

The first three years of his life, when human contact was most important, he was held as little as possible. Erik was left to play on his own, not allowed out of the house, not allowed to be seen by his parent's friends at dinner parties or even by his parents.

He never understood why, though. Erik did not comprehend why his parents were loathe to touch him or why they locked him away in his room. He could not quite grasp why he saw other children playing outside in the sunshine while he was never allowed to experience the sun's soft touch. When he attempted to ask his mother, all he received for his insolence was a smack across his cheek and boarded windows. He _did_ know, from the short scenes he viewed from his window, that the behavior of his parents was not normal. But he did not know _why_.

It was not until his fifth birthday that Erik gleaned his first bit of understanding. He received two gifts, the first and only one he would ever recieve from his parents. The first was a mask. The black piece of cloth confused the young boy. He looked at his parents, ignoring their grimaces, questioning their motives, and trying not to seem ungrateful. He did not want to go another three days without food. His puzzlement disappeared as he looked into his second gift: a mirror.

Erik did not think it was himself in the mirror. He screamed and threw it away, frightened by the monster captured within the silver frame. His mother fetched it and shoved it into his hands, forcing him to look into it again. Erik started to cry. Everything started to click into place: his parents' distance, his lack of a playmate, his absence of social connections. Now, he understood. _He_ was the monster in the mirror. _Erik_ was a monster.

Stiffly, robotically, he put on the mask. His despair was somewhat brightened, oddly enough. Erik now had the slightest bit of hope. He thought that maybe now, now that he had a mask, his parents would love him. Or if not love, at least be able to look at him without shuddering. Now that they could not see him, maybe they would accept him.

Nothing changed.

The advances Erik tried to make, hugs to his father, kisses to his mother, were all coldly shut down. Soon, Erik just gave up. His mind became his only friend, his books his only playmates.

His breaking point arrived at around Erik's seventh birthday. His parent's hosted parties once a month, mainly to offer a façade of normality within their dysfunctional household. Per usual, Erik was locked up in his room. Ear to the floor and mask cast away into the corner of the room, Erik listened to the festivities below. If he tried hard enough, he could see the scenes three floors below him. The ladies were in one room comparing the prices of their cocktail dresses and gossiping about the ladies that were not in attendance. The men were in another room, smoking the finest cigars, drinking only the best brandy, and talking of sports and politics.

Erik decided that listening was not enough anymore. He had listened for nearly seven years. It was time to see the reds and the blues of the dresses, to smell the pungent aroma of cigar smoke, to feel as if he belonged, as if he was human. It was time to _experience_.

He snuck downstairs slowly, pausing at every creak he inadvertently made. He stayed close to the wall, edging near to the smoking room. One of Erik's objectives was completed: he smelled cigar smoke. Different kinds mingled in the air, some were pungent and sharp, others earthy. He swore he smelled cherries as well.

More confident now in his stealth tactics, Erik backtracked to the lounge where he crouched near the swinging doors. He tried to peer through the cracks and saw glimpses of ankles ending in brightly colored shoes.

He was engrossed in what little he saw. So engrossed that he did not notice one pair of feet separate from the rest. So engrossed that he did not see them approach the swinging door. So engrossed that he made no move to hide as the door swung open.

What ensued next was chaos. The woman who was walking through the door screamed. She dropped the glass plate she was holding onto the cold marble floor. It shattered immediately, pieces embedding themselves into Erik's face – Erik's _uncovered_ face. His mask, his shield, was abandoned on the floor of his room. Now, he was practically naked in front of 20 strangers, deformed, crying, and even more horrifying because he was bleeding heavily. The ladies were screaming and the men were shouting with outrage. But all Erik could hear were his parents.

_Get out – monster – now – no son – out – disgusting – so sorry, he never does this – grotesque – such a mess! Call the maids – hideous – beast – monster – monster – out – out – OUT!_

These snippets of dialogue were all Erik needed. In a flash he was up and out the door. He ran into the night without knowing, without caring, where he was headed. He ran until he reached downtown Paris. Exhausted, he collapsed on a doorway, one of many that he would call home until he was 16.

Erik could in no way compare his life at home and his new life on the streets. Both were equally horrible, but at the same time so immeasurably different as to warrant the task impossible. Both places he was feared. Mothers hurried their children along at the sight of him. Grown men flinched. But at least their hatred was generalized. They feared what they saw on the surface, not the monster that Erik believed was hidden underneath. What else could have caused his disfigurement, and thus, the hate and rejection of his parents, but a monster?

He did have more freedom on the streets. That was probably the only benefit. Erik was unfettered by the shackles his parents put on him. He was allowed to wander outside and enjoy nature. He was allowed to see the sun. He usually never did, but at least he had the option. Erik slept where he wanted, ate what he could filch, and did as he pleased.

Freedom, though, came at a price for the young boy. Erik's self-made mask and his new proficiency at slight-of-hand had attracted the attention of older, stronger urchins. By the time he turned 10, not a day passed that Erik did not fear for his very life. He was suspicious of everyone, looking over his shoulder, never getting a full night's sleep. He was constantly moving, trying to avoid the various gangs that had taken an interest in him.

More often than not, the gangs that pursued Erik caught him. A group of four or five would corner him in a dark alley. They would advance, cracking their knuckles and slinging hate-filled insults at him. Erik always fought back. _Always_. Sometimes, it would work. He would have a weapon and the gang would back off. When he was unarmed, the damage done was scarring.

The young boy, eyes wide and back against the wall, would flail and kick like a rabid animal. The gang, dodging and pinning Erik's thrashing limbs, would hold him back. They ripped off his mask, taking chunks of Erik's flesh with it. Blood would blind the defenseless boy. Touch and sound were his only indications of what was happening. Fists beating his face, a shoulder to his stomach, a knee to his groin. Doubling over in agony, well-placed kicks would batter his body. When a kick to the head came, and it would without fail, Erik descended into a merciful blackness that was his haven. In the dark, he escaped the pain and evil of humanity.

In the darkness, he was safe.


	16. Chapter 16

Author's Note: Erik's history, Part 2. Enjoy and review!

An Unforgivable Act

At age 12, Erik had experienced more horrors than those who have lived to be 80. He had felt the sharp pang of hunger, the cold nights spent on the streets, the pain of constant physical abuse, and the numbness of his battered emotions. He was about to add another awful familiarity to the list: gang life.

Erik was approached by the same group of boys who had terrorized him in the alley all those times. He wondered what reason they could possibly have for wanting him. Out of suspicion, he refused. But their methods of coercion were strong and constant. So out of fear, he joined.

To prove himself loyal to that gang, Erik had to complete a task. He hoped his skills at slight-of-hand would be enough to ensure his spot in the gang. Even though the wallets, watches, purses, and pocketbooks Erik filched elevated the gang's street reputation, they remain unconvinced. No, Erik had to prove himself by committing the ultimate sin: murder. He was to kill the leader of a rival gang, the most powerful urchin on the streets, Henri "Le Chat" Duval.

Erik had often thought of death when he drifted off to the recesses of his mind after unsuccessfully fighting off the alley-way gang. He would lie still for hours curled into himself, the only expression on his face a small, grim smile. For each gang member, he contemplated a murder. One would die by flame; a match would be struck after Erik had spilled oil on his clothes. Another, by water; bricks on his wrists and he would be lost to the depths of the Seine. Stabbing, bludgeoning, shooting…the possibilities were nearly endless.

Erik had one favorite option, though. A method of murder he preferred above all others. The noose. Whether it was a hanging or strangulation, Erik loved the feeling of absolute control. It was he who controlled just how much pressure was put on the windpipe of his victim. He could choose to look into the face of the doomed man or remain the anonymous specter of death. It was he who controlled if the man was to suffer or not. It was up to him.

Erik practiced this form of torture on various creatures he encountered. No wild animals were safe. Not even household pets were entirely out of harm's way. Within a week of starting to practice, Erik was a master of the Punjab lasso. He carried one everywhere, but never found the strength to use it. Even those times in the alley, when Erik felt surges of hate coursing through his body, he could not take a human life. But now, what choice did he have? He could kill and be trusted, or refrain and be ousted. He had to extinguish the life of a stranger in order to save his own. He would kill or be killed.

What choice did he have?

XOX

Ever since Erik had learned he name of his victim, he had studied Duval. He knew everything about Duval that there was to know in a week. Fitting to his nickname, Duval was fast, quiet, and proud, although not very strong. He also had a penchant for drink, pleasurable company, and lone walks in the dead of night. The last would be his undoing.

Earlier in the evening, Duval went out for his usual lone prowl. Like he had earlier in the week, Erik stalked silently behind him, conscious of every fiber in his body. This time, instead of keeping his distance, Erik quickly crept closer until he was a foot behind Duval. "Le Chat", also known for his sharp reflexes, was caught totally off guard by Erik's swift strike to the back of his head. Duval immediately became unconscious and fell to the ground with a thud.

Realizing the need for secrecy and discretion was great, Erik dragged Duval into an abandoned building. He would wait until Duval woke up, about 30 minutes later, by Erik's prediction. Then, the fun would start.

XOX

He looked out the window into the night, the night into which he was to eternally sink. No moon shone. Even the stars hid behind a thick blanket of cloud. The heavens refused to witness Erik's atrocity.

Hidden in the shadows with his lasso in hand, Erik stared as Duval roused. He saw the man turn over and gently cradle his head in his hands. He groaned and sat up slowly. Erik decided it was time.

Not moving from his spot in the shadows, Erik threw his voice to Duval's left ear. He described Duval's death to him in startling detail, causing the hardened gang leader to sob in fear, begging for a chance. For Erik, this request was too ideal to pass up. He would play along.

He told Duval where he could find a blunt object. He threw his voice to the font of the room, giving Duval a chance to find him and survive. Reaching the place from which Erik's voice was emanating, Duval swung furiously. A triumphant smile spread across his features as he heard a dull thud. He gave a guttural cry and started to hammer upon his assailant, thinking he was beating his captor. Erik laughed and threw his voice directly behind Duval. He wildly turned around and swung.

Erik's voice again to the left, to the right, behind him, below him, above him, inside his head. Frustrated and frightened, Duval dropped to his knees, clutching his head and screaming for mercy, tears streaming down his contorted face.

It was time to end the game.

Erik tossed the lasso expertly around Duval's neck. He unleashed a fresh scream. A flick of Erik's wrist and the noose was tight. Duval gagged, his cry silenced by the lack of air, and brought his hands to his throat. Erik smirked and walked closer, yanking the cord simply to hear Duval's strangled cry. Soon, he was standing over Duval, staring into the man's frightened eyes. Pulling the rope taught with one hand, Erik lifted the other to his face. He peeled off the mask, exposing his face to Duval. Unable to scream, his eyes widened in fear. He struggled wildly, trying to escape the bestial man in front of him, but knowing it was pointless.

In his eyes, Erik saw his own reflection. All the hate that he had experienced over his life was channeled into this one moment. He shouted in rage, angry at Duval, the gang, his parents, his life. He yanked the rope one last time. Duval moved no more. The last sight that filled Duval's mind was Erik's disfigured face, contorted even more cruelly by his rage and pain. Duval's death mask was one of disgust and horror.

Tired now after his exertion, Erik surveyed what he had done. Sickened at the sight of the newly lifeless body in front of him, he retched. Wiping his mouth, Erik gathered the noose back into the folds of his clothes and calmly walked out of the apartment building. He was 14 years old.


	17. Chapter 17

Author's Note: Erik's History, Part 3.

Authority and An Address

Stories spread about what had occurred that night and who had been the one responsible for the cold-blooded murder of Henri 'Le Chat' Duval. Only the members of the gang that wanted Erik knew what had happened. They accepted him immediately and he soon became one of the higher-ranked urchins in the gang hierarchy. They never acted quite the same around him; the other members always spoke in low tones or stopped talking at all whenever Erik entered the room. He had planted a seed of fear in his fellow gang members.

So, Erik's deed accomplished much more than he expected. Along with earning a place in the gang, he became an entity unto himself. He was highly respected on the streets of Paris. No one dared approach him with ill will for fear of losing their head in Erik's noose. Erik's power surprised him, even more so when singular gang members were approaching him with "favors". He became, in all meanings of the word, a hit man.

The authorities soon began to notice. They had always been aware of gang activity in Paris, but only got involved when one gang started to dominate. With his mask, reclusive habits, violent mood swings, and other eccentric behaviors, Erik was practically asking to be arrested.

One detective in particular paid close attention to Erik: a Persian by the name of Nadir. But to Erik, he was Daroga. They encountered each other on the streets once or twice, acting civil to the point of sarcastic politeness. Each knew what the other was, but neither could act upon it. Nadir hadn't enough proof to arrest Erik and Erik was not foolish enough to openly admit his acts. The two had a professional relationship, bordering on respect.

XOX

After two years of dancing around the tricks of the Daroga and still remaining on top of the gang hierarchy, Erik had succeeded in not murdering another. Sure, he had maimed, tortured, and mentally destroyed those who got in the way of him or his "clients", but he did not kill.

A day then arrived that would take Erik down a new path. He received a most terrifying request. His client specifically requested death. More specifically, the death of an officer. The death of Nadir. He cited that Nadir was getting "too close" to "sensitive information" regarding "certain people". Erik gave a puzzled look at the vague answer. He was about to answer no when he heard the jingle of an overly full purse hit the table. Glancing at the bulging sack and back at the client, Erik slowly reached out and drew the bag into the folds of his clothes. The client gave a curt nod and left.

Erik suddenly realized to what he had agreed. His greed had overpowered him. He took an assassination job. Not only would he kill, but he would kill Daroga. He battled with himself for hours, frustrated at the lack of easy answers. In the end, Erik thought of the long run situation. If he did not kill Nadir, his street credit would veritably dissolve over night. He would be back at the bottom of the heap. He could not, _would_ not, return to that.

XOX

Like before, Erik spent a week studying his prey. By the time that week was up, he had planned everything. It was to be set in motion that evening.

The sun had just begun to set. The time to act had arrived. Erik followed Nadir to his house and crept in immediately after him. It was impossible for Nadir not to notice Erik's presence and he turned around, quickly striking the young boy across the face. Erik was not expecting this and fell to the floor. Nadir was about to land a kick when he saw what the object of his attack was. He stopped, shocked.

Nadir stared down at Erik, who had recovered and was attempting to rise. The blow to his head was harder than Erik thought, and his mind was reeling. He looked up and locked eyes with Nadir. What he saw pinned him to the floor. Disappointment was spread across Nadir's face. He looked close to tears.

Erik was ashamed of himself. Even if he wanted to continue fighting, he would lose. Nadir had the upper hand. Erik had no chance of escape. He would be arrested. He was going to prison. He was going to Hell.

All of these realities came rushing into Erik's mind at once, overwhelming him. Scared out of his mind, Erik broke down. On the floor, he cried, shedding his first tears since he ran from his parents.

XOX

To Erik's extreme surprise, he was not arrested. In fact, he stayed with Nadir for a few days, telling his story for the first time in his life. Inspired by what he heard, Nadir decided to help the young boy. He _was_ only 16. There was still time to save him.

Nadir transferred out of Paris a week later to Rennes, where his summer home was located. Erik put up there for a while, enjoying his new life. Nadir treated him nicer than anyone else ever had. It was an experience out of a fairy tale, not the harsh and cruel life that Erik had seen so far. The best part was that Nadir was not judgmental. He never asked Erik about his mask and never brought up Erik's shameful breakdown in Paris. He felt wanted and accepted. For the first time, Erik felt like he was at home.

He could not stay with Nadir forever, though. Erik knew that and desperately searched for a solution. He did not want to return to the streets, but he had worn out his welcome with Nadir. He informed Nadir about this problem, who provided a solution two days later. Erik could live in, or rather, haunt, the nearby Château de Hac.

At first, Erik laughed at the idea. But upon further reflection, the suggestion was starting to grow on him. The château was close to the city and Nadir was willing to act as his connection to the outside world. The castle was big enough to live in without being seen if he were careful. And if Erik established himself as a feared phantom, he may be able to request certain amenities from the château owners, such as money. He would have food, shelter, safety, entertainment – it was too good of a deal to let pass.

A few days later, Nadir had arranged everything. He took Erik to the château for a tour. He hung near the back of the crowd, his head down, so as not to attract unneeded attention. When the docent's attention was turned, Nadir slipped Erik a small wad of money, whispered for him to be careful, and bade him good luck. Erik looked up at Nadir with gratefulness in his eyes. Silently, he slipped away from the tour group and down one of the many dark château corridors.

Within a week, Erik established himself as the resident phantom of the Château de Hac.


	18. Chapter 18

Author's Note: Thanks for all the kind reviews last time. They are really inspiring and helpful, not to mention ego-boosting! Hahaha. Anyways, we're out of the history part of the story and about to get into the meat of it. So, I hope you all enjoy this! And remember, review!

Inconvenient Reason

Christine sat in stunned silence as Erik's low, soothing voice stopped. She had experienced a gamut of emotions: anger, repulsion, terror, sadness, pity. She could not believe all that he had gone through. She was surprised he was sane, let alone still living.

Noting her silence, Erik started. "The rest of my story you know. I've been here for about 12 years now. I have amassed quite a fortune and bought the château when the former owner died. I have had more freedom since then. I had this wing blocked off for my personal use and my servants respect my privacy. It is the perfect situation."

"It does sound ideal," Christine admitted, speaking for the first time since Erik started his narrative. "Erik, I-"

"Christine," he cut in, "I do not need your pity. What happened, happened. I am fully culpable for all my actions. I regret each and every bad decision I made. But I cannot change the past, nor can I dwell on it. I have accepted my fate and moved on. I beg you to do the same."

He looked at her with pleading eyes, searching her for understanding. She met his gaze steadily, still shocked by what she heard. Christine could not deny the horrors that he committed: murder, torture, numerous crimes…It was heinous. She was slightly disgusted by the startling descriptions Erik gave her. But without them, his story would have been impersonal and even more unbelievable. Yet as Erik said, it was in the past. She was reluctant to be fazed by his gruesome tale.

Clearing his throat, Erik stood. "It's time for bed."

She stood and he took her hand and led Christine back to her room. He stared at her across the threshold.

"Erik?" she asked in a soft, tentative voice. "You said you have accepted your fate. How do you know what fate has in store for you?"

His eyes filled slightly when he looked at Christine. He answered slowly but surely. "With what I have done, how could my fate be anything less than damnation?"

Christine almost broke into tears as she heard his response. He was so sure that he was evil, that he was doomed for eternity.

'He can love, and be loved,' Christine thought. 'He needs to learn that.'

Spontaneously, Christine pulled him into a gentle hug, feeling him tense up beneath her. "Thank you," she whispered into his ear. Erik relaxed and was about to reciprocate her hug, but she pulled away.

"Goodnight," she said with a small smile. She softly shut the door, leaving Erik slightly stunned.

"Bon soir," he whispered to Christine's door.

XOX

Christine lay in her bed and thought about everything Erik just told her. It was information overload. He had suffered more than anyone else she knew, and yet, he was okay. 'Well, not that okay, I suppose.'

It was obvious that Erik had trust issues. He told her his story, though, which was a step in the right direction. She wondered if he would ever trust her enough to let her see behind his mask. His mood swings were another cause for concern. He could change from talkative to sullen in a flash, and she didn't want to think about seeing him angry. She hoped she would never give him cause for it. His past was filled with such violence, too. Christine wondered if he would ever slip back into that vein, again hoping that he never would.

After continuing to think about what Erik said last, that he could not dwell on the past, Christine decided he was right. It would be useless to worry about what Erik had endured. It happened and it was horrible. But it seemed like he was a good person after all of it. She accepted his past and promised herself not to judge him against his history.

XOX

With no plans with Erik for that evening, Christine's fifth day passed surprisingly quickly. Her bruises were barely noticeable now, so she ventured relaxing by the pool. She slipped into her bikini and lay out under the sun. She loved the feeling of the sun against her skin; it warmed her quickly. She swam, read, and napped under the sun without disturbance.

She loved the relaxation she was able to get, but the nights she spent with Erik were wonderful beyond Christine's expectations.

'First, he saves my life and nurses me back to health. We went for a magical midnight ride and experienced an evening of song. He is even comfortable enough with me to share his dark past,' she smiled.

Not even Raoul trusted her this much. He did not believe Christine capable of managing her own funds, for pity's sake. Raoul was never as romantic or mysterious as Erik either; he was always very straight-forward about his emotions. And while it was nice to know exactly where Raoul's head was at, he became predictable and, at times, quite tedious.

For these reasons, Christine felt only the slightest twinge of guilt for enjoying her days with Erik. 'Nothing has happened between Erik and I, so I'm guilty only in acquiring a new friend. And Erik is a friend. Just a friend. Right?'

Pushing these thoughts from her mind, Christine made her way up to her room. Upon entering, she immediately looked to where she had found Erik's first letter. Nothing was there. She searched through her room, yielding no results. It was not as if she was expecting something, but not finding anything had disappointed and hurt her.

'Have I done something to offend him? Is he ignoring me now? I thought we made progress.'

Her thoughts continued down this road for the rest of the night. During her nightly conversation with Raoul, she was only half-listening. Christine went through scenario after scenario in which she could have said something comforting or reassuring. She participated in dinner conversation only partially, not really paying attention to the gossip that the château phantom now had a female partner that had sung for the first time last night.

Her sleep was troubled. Christine hoped that a way to make things right between her and Erik would present itself soon.

XOX

Erik meant to sneak into her room at around 2 a.m., but he tarried too long in the barnyard. Instead, he took a chance and delivered the letter at dawn. He figured she would still be sleeping, thus avoiding confrontation but still doing what he needed to do.

He winced as he pushed open the fireplace; the stones were grating and the hinge squeaked audibly.

'I will have to fix that soon,' he made a mental note.

Pausing for a moment and seeing that he did not wake her, he walked into the room and placed the letter on her desk, almost exactly where the first one was.

'There is no way she will miss that. I know that if she does not come tonight, she will never come again.'

Erik had been tortured all night. He wondered if he had done the right thing by opening up to Christine. She was not very talkative after he had told her about his past, making him nervous. Then again, what was she to say? Over and over he belittled himself, telling himself that he was not worthy of such a beauty and, even if he was, she would never have him if she knew what lay behind his mask.

He looked over at her sleeping form.

'Oh, but she is beautiful.'

Erik could tell that Christine was asleep, and having a good dream by the look of the soft smile on her face. Her chocolate curls were spread around her face, a few covering her delicate brow. Erik let his feelings take over at that moment. He walked over to the bed, the only noise being the rustling of his clothes and Christine's soft breathing, and kneeled down by her restive form. Gently, he tucked a loose curl behind her ear, pulling it away from her face. He wanted to look upon the face of beauty.

Gently, he let his finger glide down her jaw line. He did not notice her hand travel towards his and was taken by surprise when she captured his finger against her cheek in a light grasp. He smiled and gently worked his finger out of hers. Her action, even though it was unconsciously done, charmed him. He bent down over her, his face about an inch above her own. Erik could feel the softness of her breath on his lips. He moved closer to her, hips lips almost touching hers, literally a centimeter apart. He wanted to kiss her. And more than anything, he wanted her to kiss him in return. At that moment, he wanted her, no, _needed_ her for his own.

Reality collided with him the moment before his lips collided with hers.

'What am I doing? What am I thinking?'

Erik was up in a flash. He moved into the fireplace faster than he thought was possible and closed it. Breathing hard, he leaned back against the dry wall of the passageway. He wanted her so badly, but thought that if she had woken up to find his lips upon hers…he shuddered to think of what she would say.

'Tonight,' he thought, 'tonight we shall see what happens.'

XOX

Christine was on the brink of sleep and waking. The soft light of near dawn streamed through her window and struck her eyes, making her squint slightly. She was trying to recover the dream she was having.

'It was a good one, too,' she thought, eyes still shut peacefully.

Giving up on the dream, she started to plan a loose itinerary for the day. She was comfortable in the pre-dawn silence of her room and was about to drift back into the realm of sleep when she heard something. It was the soft grate of stone against stone and the slight squeak of an un-oiled hinge. She felt a presence in her room.

'It's him,' she thought excitedly. She debated whether or not to open her eyes, but decided that the encounter would just be awkward. Keeping a straight face was difficult, but she managed to keep feigning sleep while he moved about her room.

She heard him move to the desk and quietly place something there.

'A note!' she thought, suppressing a smile.

She felt him move closer to her bed, stopping when he was right next to it. She heard the fabric of his sleeve rustle and a shadow fell over her eyes. A loose lock of hair was pushed away from her face and tucked behind her ear. At this tender gesture, Christine could not help but smile a little.

He trailed a finger down her cheek lightly, tickling her. Deciding to play with him a bit, she moved her hand to her face, trapping his finger. She held it loosely against her cheek. She heard his breath hitch and turned her face towards him, wondering what his next move would be. Gently, he pried her hand from his. Slowly, he moved his face towards her own. He was so close to her now, his quickened breathing warming her lips. More than anything, she wanted to open her eyes. She wanted to see what emotions were running through those green depths and communicate what she wanted through her own. She wanted him to kiss her. More than anything, she wanted a kiss.

Her face was directly under his, his lips a hairs breadth away from her own. She tensed, waiting for bliss.

He paused for a second, then, as if realizing for the first time what he was about to do, drew away from her quickly. She heard the fireplace open and close once again. The absence of his breath, of his body, of his very presence made her want to shout in frustration. Thinking that enough time passed, she opened her eyes and sat up. Christine ran her fingers gently across her lips, trying to imagine what Erik's would have felt like. She was slightly confused at where she was and why Erik was not there with her.

After a few moments, she returned to reason. She was annoyed with Erik for not following through on this most tempting movement and angry at herself for not doing anything to encourage him.

'Am I doomed to want what I cannot have?' she silently fumed.

Her anger and annoyance dissipated slightly as she saw the letter on her desk. When she was done reading it, they were gone completely, replaced by curiosity and excitement. The letter read:

_Dearest Christine-_

_If you will again grace me with your presence tonight, I would be honored. Same time, same place. And arrive hungry. _

_Yours, Erik_

"But what will I wear!" Christine exclaimed to an empty room.


	19. Chapter 19

Author's Note: The speech before the tango is adapted from the movie "Moulin Rouge" (which is quite possibly one of the greatest movies of all time). Yeah, that's about it for me here. Enjoy!

Dinner and a Dance

10 p.m. arrived astonishingly fast, probably because Christine spent half the day agonizing over what she was going to wear. She tore through her suitcase, wishing that she had packed something...

'Something what?' she thought. 'I had no idea this was going to happen! But I still should've been prepared.' Nonsensically, she lectured herself for lack of preparation.

After hours of searching, Christine opted for a dressy-casual look. She wore the new blue cocktail dress that she bought in town, over which she sported a sheer shawl. She fussily fixed her long brown curls in a half-up do. To her joy, they fell perfectly. She did her make-up with more care than usual, succeeding for the first time in establishing a smoky look around her brown eyes. She looked like a goddess.

'Everything has to be perfect tonight,' she thought without knowing exactly why it had to be so.

She snuck down the stairs and started to slink towards the wing. She took two steps and froze; her heels made sharp clicks whenever they touched the floors. Afraid that she would be spotted, Christine ducked into the shadows. Slipping off her shoes, she waited a few minutes. Shoeless now, she padded silently to the entrance of the wing. Thee she waited anxiously. She saw Erik walking towards her and her face lit up. This morning's incident was still fresh in her mind.

As he exited the shadows, though, her face fell a bit: Erik was dressed to the nines: a spotless black suit, complete with gloves and cape. She turned scarlet with embarrassment, immediately wishing for a hole in the ground into which she could crawl. Whether Erik noticed or not ('He probably does,' Christine thought, thoroughly annoyed), he made no mention of it. Just as he did the nights before, he greeted her and took her hand, leading her to their destination.

Erik led her to yet another familiar place: his kitchen. The chic area had been exquisitely decorated, transforming it into a place of elegance and grace. A fine cream tablecloth covered what Christine knew to be a nice cherry table, fine crystal stemware and china dishes were set out in place of Erik's regular cutlery, wine was being chilled to the side, and nothing but candlelight lit the scene.

Christine appreciated the effort Erik went through to impress her. Little did he know that he needn't have put forth such work. His demeanor and personality were all that he needed to impress Christine, not fancy place settings. More than that, she knew that Erik was not trying to show off his finery. He genuinely wanted to wow her. This brought a smile to her face as she sat down at the beautiful table and gazed at the man now seated across from her.

They ate a traditional French meal. Christine assumed that Erik had set the menu himself and had ordered the kitchen staff to prepare it specially. They enjoyed warm conversation and she grew more comfortable with him after each glass of wine. The meal ended and Christine could not help but wonder, 'Is that all?'

Erik must have read her expression. "Come, ma cherie. The second part of our evening awaits us."

He took her hand in his and led her down the hall to a room she had never seen before: the ballroom. Like the kitchen, the high-ceilinged room was lit entirely by candles, aided somewhat by the light of the waning moon which filtered through the large windows. The marble floor was shining like glass; Christine felt like she was walking on water of the stillest, most serene pond. An expensive-looking sound system rested in the corner. Finally, Christine figured it out.

"Dancing," she said quietly. Erik heard her whisper and nodded.

"I'm not exactly dressed for this," Christine said, voicing what had been bothering her for the majority of the night.

Erik smirked and gave her a once over, causing Christine to blush slightly.

"I can fix that," he said to her in a low and husky voice, accompanied by a smoldering look.

'Oh, his eyes could melt stone. No wonder he makes me blush,' Christine thought. 'Well, two can play at this game.'

Seemingly out of nowhere, Erik pulled a stunning red dress. He pointed out where Christine could change and she was off, eager to put on the dress.

Pulling on the little red number, Christine was suddenly intensely grateful for her choice of underwear for the evening. The dress left little to the imagination. It fell a little above her knees and flared out whenever she spun. The bottom was the only loose part of the dress, however. Everywhere else hugged her like a second skin, outlining all of her curves. The low-cut top showed just the tops of her black lace bra.

'I'm really happy I wore this underwear,' Christine thought once more.

She slipped on the high heeled shoes, checked her appearance once more. With a devilish smile, she seductively strutted into the ballroom.

'Time to make _him_ blush for a change,' she thought with a grin.

She was not disappointed. Upon seeing her, Erik froze. His eyes roved her body once, twice, three times before he snapped out of his trance. Christine gave a spin, the bottom of the dress flying up to her mid-thigh, or perhaps a little higher.

"Better than you anticipated?" she asked with the grin of the Cheshire Cat.

"Much," Erik replied, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

Christine noticed that he had changed as well. He had removed his cape, gloves, suit jacket, and cravat, leaving just a white silk shirt, unbuttoned at the top, and his suit pants. She noticed, not for the first time, what a fine figure he cut: his long legs, broad, strong chest, mysteriously handsome features, half-hidden behind a white porcelain mask. Christine shivered involuntarily, although she knew it was most decidedly _not_ from the temperature.

"Have you ever danced before?"

"Not really," Christine answered.

"Well then," Erik replied, a grin on his face, "you are in for a treat."

Erik pressed play and up started what Christine suspected was an introduction to the tango. The violins played slowly as first, but picked up tempo as Erik talked.

Christine was standing in the middle of the room; candles floated around her, making her feel as if she were hovering.

"The tango is a dance of fire, a dance of passion, and a dance of _desire_."

Christine felt the soft strum of the violins wash over her and ensnare her senses. When Erik said 'desire', Christine shuddered.

"This particular tango tells the story of two lovers, different as can be: the woman, rich and noble, and her lover, impoverished and common. They know they cannot be together, but want it so."

Erik circled her as he talked, his voice intense and deep.

"First, there was desire. Then passion, suspicion, jealousy, revenge, and finally – lust."

Erik said the list in quick succession, pausing before the word 'lust', his voice raspy and filled with want. Christine closed her eyes and rolled her head back in pleasure, heat welling up inside her body.

He was behind her now, hands upon her shoulders, traveling down her arms, raising goose bumps on her soft skin. He spun her around so that her chest was flush against his. Their eyes locked, his bright green meeting her own brilliant amber, both flashing the same emotion.

He whispered into her ear, "Feel the music, Christine. _Feel it_."

He pushed her away from him. A crescendo of violins and a crash of piano; their dance had begun.

They circled each other slowly; eyes still locked, a foot of space between them. They moved closer now, still not touching but hands to each other's faces, wanting each other and wanting it badly.

Finally, they touched.

_Desire_. Erik's hand was at the small of her back leading her to one side of the ballroom. He spun her, and led her the other way, his steps quick and deliberate.

_Passion_. His hands burned her skin, making her want to cry out in ecstasy. They spread warmth to every part of her he touched: her back, her side, her hips. Even the one area that Erik had not yet touched was burning, releasing an ache in the pit of her stomach that Christine had never before felt. He spun her again, clasping her to his chest, dipping her.

_Suspicion_. The tempo slowed, as did their dance. He broke away from her again, and they resumed circling each other. The look in his eyes was a mixture of confusion, bordering on annoyance. Christine looked at him guiltily, even though she had done nothing. His accusing stare was enough to make Christine shake.

_Jealousy_. The dance became violent in its intensity. Erik came up behind her, forcefully grasping her arm in his hand, stepping towards her while she stepped back. He loomed over her, his eyes flashing with menace and wrath. His mouth was twisted into a victorious sneer that looked devilishly attractive, baring his perfect white teeth.

_Revenge_. He twisted and turned her body in a wild array of contortions, his face contorted into an expression of utter loathing. The pain the dance was mimicking slowly crossed the thin line into pleasure once more as the violins swelled.

_Lust_. Her hands roamed his body, feeling the outline of his muscles on his back and chest while he firmly held her hips. He crushed her against him and they danced with a passion Christine had never before experienced. Their bodies melted into one. They moved as the same being, a swirling mass of red and black. Their eyes burned with sheer carnal lust.

Minutes after it began, it ended. Both were breathing deeply, limbs entwined. Christine's leg was wrapped around his waist, with one of his hands firmly pressed against the back of her upper thigh. The other was holding her chest against his. She had a fistful of his hair in one hand, the other used to pull herself closer to him.

For a minute they remained liked this. Heir bodies flush, their breath coming in short spurts, their adrenaline pumping, their hearts racing. Erik leaned down, his lips a hair's breadth away from her own. He stopped.

He was leaving it up to her.


	20. Chapter 20

Author's Note: Sorry for the wait! School has started to pick up and I've been swamped. Thanks for all your reviews; I love them all! I hope everyone enjoys this chapter!

Changes

_It was her decision._

Christine looked into Erik's eyes and slowly raised her lips to his in agonizing slowness. Her breath quickened as she tensed, waiting to again feel the windswept emotion of ten years prior, when they had first kissed. Christine saw Erik's partly closed eyes and smiled, then closing her own.

In mere seconds, reality came crashing down on Christine, halting her progress. Bits of logic whirled about her mind. She had a fiancé back home who loved her. She had the ring in her room to prove it. And here she was in a foreign country with an even more foreign man. No, this could not happen.

"Erik," she whispered against his lips. He opened his eyes. Bright green met soft amber.

"Erik, I can't."

She saw for a fleeting moment the pain she had caused with that one simple sentence. All the years of rejection he had experienced had been topped off by her refusal of him. Through his eyes, Christine saw his soul perched upon a precipice, ready to either soar into happiness or plunge into the depths of despair. Down into despair he spiraled. All of this in one instant, for the next his eyes were as cold and impassive as any other time.

Christine untangled herself from his embrace and stepped back. With tears in her eyes, she turned and quickly made her way to the ballroom exit. Her heels made lonely clicks on the wood floor and her dress made the soft swishing sound of an opportunity fluttering away. As soon as she stepped outside the door, she realized just how cold it was away from him.

XOX

She tried to sleep, but succeeded only in throwing the blankets from her bed. Erik's eyes kept appearing whenever she closed her own.

'His expression,' she thought. 'In that second, his eyes held all the sorrow in the world. But if only he knew my reason. I have to tell him. Tomorrow. Yes. Tomorrow, I'll tell him everything. No more secrets. He will know the truth.'

After assuring herself again and again that everything would be righted again tomorrow, Christine drifted off into an uneasy sleep. She dreamt of falling and crashing, because there was no one to catch her.

XOX

Christine woke with a start, not exactly sure what prompted her spirited waking.

'Something is different,' she thought warily. 'Something isn't right.' She could not explain how she knew this; it was an instinctual feeling. Maybe the birds sang a bit too loudly, perhaps the sun was a bit too bright for the morning. Whatever the reason, Christine started her day wary.

She showered and changed, hanging up the beautiful red dress in the closet. She fingered the soft fabric nostalgically. Sighing heavily, she pushed the magical thoughts of last night from her mind. Christine quickly made her way down to the dining hall. She wanted to find Erik. Grabbing an apple from the dining table, she was about to start for the south-west wing when she heard Mme. DesChanels call her.

"Mlle. Daaé. Mlle. Daaé!" The madame walked up to her briskly. "You have a surprise waiting for you in the lobby."

Christine gave the docent a look of surprise. "What is it?"

"If I told you, it would not be a surprise, now would it?" she teased with a wink. "I think you will enjoy it."

Christine cocked an eyebrow. Intrigued, she walked towards the lobby. Getting closer with each step, she then heard a familiar voice.

'It can't be,' Christine thought, already getting upset. 'It simply can't be.'

But it was.

Jauntily leaning upon the front desk, and getting what Christine thought was a little _too_ close to the pretty blonde receptionist, was Raoul.

"Oh no," she voiced and tried to keep her ring-less hand out of his sight, knowing the drama it would cause.

Raoul evidently heard her say something because he tore his eyes away from the receptionist quite quickly.

"Chrissy!" he yelled, wrapping her in a bear hug. She winced at the sound of her 'nickname'. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

Not really caring about the non-committal grunt Christine gave in reply, Raoul continued talking.

"I thought I'd pop in for your last week here. We can get some honeymooning in before the honeymoon, if you catch my drift." He winked, then blatantly slapped Christine's ass and, feeling quite proud of himself, stole a sloppy kiss from her.

Christine pushed him off, her patience wearing thin. "Have you been drinking?" she asked.

"Of course not," he lied. Christine could taste the alcohol on his breath.

'This is only going to make him harder to deal with,' she thought, worried now about how things were going to go.

"Well, take me to our room, Chrissy!" he demanded. "I want to get settled, get some food, and get busy! Oh, and would you mind getting my luggage for me? I had to carry it all the way up the drive and it's quite heavy."

Raoul traipsed off in front of Christine and started to quickly mount the stairs, giving her no time to refuse his demands. Scowling at Raoul's behavior, Christine had no choice other than to lug his heavy suitcase up the 72 steep stairs.

XOX

Little did Christine know that more than one pair of eyes had witnessed Christine and Raoul's reunion. Hidden in a passageway, Erik regarded the scene from a peephole. He could barely handle seeing Christine being hugged by that drunk and pompous idiot, but then to witness him fondling her and kissing her…

His anger only grew as he heard them speak of their honeymoon.

He whisked away, angry and jealous.

"The little lying wench," he spoke maliciously, striking the rough sides of the passageway and splitting his knuckles in the process. "The conniving whore!" He hit the rocky wall again, searching for a physical outlet for his emotional pain. "She strung me along without blinking an eye, all the while being engaged to that pig!" he spat. "I should have known better than to trust a snake like her." He fumed, pressing his hot forehead against the rough, cool stone. Regaining a thin veneer of calm, he hissed "I think it's time for her to go. She will never return." He turned sharply, his cape billowing out behind him, and strode off to the confines of his room.


	21. Chapter 21

Author's Note: Hey everyone! Sorry for the wait-college keeps a girl busy! So yeah, this is a chapter and I hope you like it. Please leave a review! Enjoy!

Shackled

Christine entered the room after Raoul, who immediately proceeded to make himself comfortable. He threw off his shoes to one corner of the room, tossed his socks into another, and put his feet upon the table.

Wiping the sweat from her brow, Christine made a face of disgust that once again went unnoticed. She threw his luggage unceremoniously into the corner. The heavy suitcase landed with a thud, successfully diverting Raoul's attention from his surroundings to his future wife.

"How about a foot rub, Chrissy?" Raoul said, flexing his toes. Before Christine could reply no, he continued. "Maybe it will turn into rubbing something else, if you're a good girl." He grinned saucily and winked, a lecherous look entering his eyes.

"No, I don't think so, Raoul." Christine said firmly.

His eyes narrowed. "Fine, later then."

He reached for the television remote, but Christine was quicker. Snatching the clicker and putting it on a shelf, she turned to the annoyed-looking man sitting on her couch.

"Hey! I was going to watch that!" he complained.

"Raoul, we need to talk."

"Talk? But why?" He rose from the couch and walked to her. "Can't we just let our bodies do the talking?" he said throatily. He gathered Christine into him and let his hands start to wander her body. His actions reminded her of Erik's hands the night before, and she was not surprised that she experienced no such warmth with Raoul. She pushed him away forcefully.

"Why are you here?"

Raoul gave her an affronted and annoyed look. "What, you're not happy to see me? Chrissy, we've been away from each other for a whole week! How could you not miss me?"

"Raoul, I never said that I didn't miss you," Christine said. "You're jumping to conclusions. It's just that this vacation was supposed to be some alone time for me. Before we…you know?" She could not bring herself to say marry. "My visit here was supposed to be relaxing and solitary."

Raoul put his hands on her shoulders, looking contrite. "I understand Christine. But just think - now you can be alone with me. Won't that be fun?" His voice was condescending and held not the least bit of repentance.

She shot him an angry look and shrugged his hands from her shoulders. She started to walk deeper into her room.

"Look, I can tell you're upset…" Raoul said to her turned form.

"Really, Raoul? What was your first clue?"

He ignored her sarcasm. "But I'm already here. What do you want me to do? Fly back home?"

Christine faced him and raised her eyebrows. Raoul could not misinterpret the meaningful look she gave him.

"You want me to leave? You actually want me to go?" His voice was rising higher and higher, and his face was turning red. He advanced on Christine, who held her ground against his fury.

"Unacceptable, Christine. First you neglect to call me and now you want me to leave. Unacceptable. Well, you know what? I'm not going to leave. I'm going to stay with you for the remainder of the trip and you're going to enjoy it. Do I make myself clear?"

"Raoul, don't order me around! I'm not a child and what's more, I am not your possession. I am a grown woman and can make my own decisions. And I have made mine. Leave, Raoul. Let me have the rest of my vacation alone, the way _I_ intended it to be," Christine said sternly.

Raoul's face was agape with Christine's brash words. Never before had she spoken to him like this.

"Not my property?" he repeated, mocking her. "You are to be my _wife_."

She glared at him, furious. She was about to say something in retort, but Raoul started up again. Violently, he grabbed her left hand, bringing it between their faces.

"So put on the ring, you bitch."

Tears filled Christine's eyes. Raoul's insult was simple, but it stung nevertheless. Mostly because she knew he was right. Glaring at him, she whipped around and marched to the desk. She sighed as she reached for the ring and was tempted to throw it at him there and then. Instead, she slipped the ring back on, a tear or two spilling from her brown eyes. She felt as if she was shackled to Raoul, his prisoner for the remainder of the trip.

Calmer now, but shreds of anger still evident in his voice, Raoul said, "Let's spend the day at the pool, Christine. Then we'll have some dinner and just go to sleep. This has been a long day for us both."

'I _am_ his prisoner,' Christine thought with a quivering chin. 'He's ordering me around like a jailer would. I need to get away from him.'

XOX

The 'happy' couple was receiving congratulations all the way down to the pool. Raoul insisted they swim. Afraid of causing a scene in front of the other château patrons, Christine acquiesced. Right after though, she donned her sunglasses and faked sleep in the warm Rennes sun.

Her thoughts were utterly depressing. 'How am I to tell Erik now? With Raoul here, I can barely go to the bathroom on my own. And what if he saw? Erik knows everything that happens in this place. Oh my God,' Christine realized. 'If he saw, he'll never listen to an explanation. He'd never consent to hear me out. I'm doomed.'

Dinner was, in Christine's opinion, a perfect disaster. Raoul filled Christine's plate, not bothering to ask what she wanted. She tried to be pleasant while talking to Mme. DesChanels, but it was difficult with Raoul at her side; he was constantly interrupting her story of how they met and his boisterous laughter was obviously annoying the other diners.

Christine was beyond thankful when the meal was finally over. They walked wordlessly to Christine's room and silently changed and slipped into bed, putting as much distance between each other as possible.

After a few hours, Christine felt that it was safe to leave. Like ten years prior, she quietly snuck out of her bed.


	22. Chapter 22

Author's Note: Thanks to all who have reviewed! Enjoy this chapter!

Torn

Christine toyed with the idea of trying to find Erik in the south-west wing, but decided against it. She needed time alone, time to think about what she was going to do. Instead, she made her way to the stables.

'A night ride will be just what I need to calm my thoughts,' she thought. 'I'll follow the creek this time, too. Maybe the water will inspire me.'

She woke Nacre, who was slightly ruffled at being woken up so late at night. After being appeased with soothing words and an apple, though, the mare was fine and stood patiently while Christine got her ready to ride.

She made her way out of the barn and trotted towards the woods, not wanting to be seen by any of the staff. She located the creek and walked Nacre along it. Christine was not really leading Nacre, instead letting her follow the appropriate path. She was too absorbed in her own thoughts to concentrate on where she was going.

'This is a disaster,' she thought. 'I haven't spoken to Erik in days, Raoul is here, and I'm so confused. It would have been better if I had never come.'

'Or would it?' piped the devil's advocate on her shoulder. 'If I had not come, I never would have really met Erik, and he would have haunted my thoughts forever. And, look at how Raoul is behaving! I certainly did not know about this side of him. If I never came here, I never would have seen this side of him. I saw how he was flirting with that receptionist. And he got so angry earlier today. Do I really want to marry that?'

And that was indeed Christine's conflict. 'Do I still want to marry him? He is a pretty decent guy. And look what he's done for me! I should be grateful for the support and friendship he's given me.'

'But my gratitude does _not_ have to be in the form of marriage. And our relationship has never really been that spectacular. That "spark" never was really there,' Christine rationalized. 'What it boils down is: do I love him?'

Christine furrowed her brow at the question and pulled on the reins a bit, stopping Nacre. She dismounted and hitched the mare to a branch, leaving the reins loose enough so that she could graze easily. Christine sat down against a tree and looked into the creek for an answer.

The river reflected no reply. Instead, she saw a reflection of the night sky through the dark canopy of trees above her. The moon was out and only a few of its silver rays made their way through the thick limbs. The soft light played atop the ever-moving water, dancing in response to the quiet babbling of the creek and the occasional chirp of the crickets. The light was free to do as it pleased. No rules confined it to one area of the water or told it what leaves it could land on. The water was free to run, the crickets to chirp.

'That is what I want,' Christine thought. 'I just want to be free.'

The freedom she felt at the château was unlike anything she had experienced in the United States. She wanted to do as she pleased, to sing when she wanted. She wanted to express the passion pent up inside her. She did not want to be controlled, like how Raoul was attempting to control her.

'Do I love him?' she silently asked herself.

Christine smiled and quietly said aloud, "No, not him. I don't love him."

Her smile turned to one of radiance as she realized which man could give her the freedom and the passion for which she yearned.

She looked up and whispered into the night, "Erik".

Abruptly, her thoughts came to a screeching halt. A gloved hand clasped itself around her mouth as she was pulled hard up against the tree. Christine started to struggle and writhe about, wetting the bottoms of her pants in the creek and smearing mud up and down her legs. Frightened by the commotion, Nacre reared and pulled free of her hold and ran off. Flashes of what happened when she was coming back from Rennes occurred before her eyes, which now filled with tears as she thought of what might happen.

'I have no chance of escape now. I only hope they can find my body in these woods,' she thought, positive that this was her doom.

A harsh whisper came from the tree. No, the being behind the tree. "Get out of here, Ms. Daaé. Or should I say Mrs.?" However mutilated the voice was by malice, Christine recognized it instantaneously.

'Erik,' she thought. 'I have to get loose. I have to talk to him. He doesn't understand.'

"Leave here, Christine," his malicious voice said once more. "Never return. You are not worthy of a place of such beauty."

She heard his voice crack a bit, thinking about how awful this must be for him. She had hurt him deeply, and he was right; she did not deserve this place.

'But I'll be damned if I'm going to go without a fight,' she thought.

Christine stopped struggling, hoping she would confuse Erik and perhaps calm him enough to listen to her speak.

"_Leave_," he said one last time, tightening his grip, making the bark of the tree dig into her back.

He suddenly released her. She gasped for breath and pushed herself away from the tree. She called out pitifully for him.

"Erik. Erik, please. Listen to me, please. Erik…" She stumbled to her feet and scrabbled around in the dark, looking for any trace of him. He did not respond. Hopeless now, her eyes filled with hot tears. She broke down, crying for herself and for Erik on the dirt ground of the forest.

XOX

Erik hated to do it, but he needed to scare her. He needed her to leave. Her mere presence caused him pain. He experienced a great deal of anguish in his life, but never anything close to this. He knew he was emotionally hurt, but what he did not expect to hurt physically as well. His heart felt like it had been ripped in two, physically sore.

He whispered his threats to Christine from behind a tree, knowing she would recognize his voice. She went limp against his hand, which Erik took as his clue to leave. One last threat and he was gone, but not far. He hid behind a large boulder a few yards from Christine.

Erik heard Christine calling out for him and heard her fall to the ground crying. A part of him wanted to listen to her and to comfort her, to take her small body in his arms and hold her like he wanted to. He wanted to forgive her.

'No,' he thought, vehemently scolding himself. 'She has betrayed me. She deserves no compassion.'

He quietly stalked away, Christine's quiet sobs still echoing in his head. His heart was being ripped into fourths now, his pain doubling as he increased his distance from her.


	23. Chapter 23

Author's Note: Beginning of the end, folks. Beginning of the end. Enjoy, and leave a review if you're so inclined!

Escape

Christine was content to lie on the forest floor all night. She had hurt Erik and he had abandoned her because of it. She had made a mess of everything and saw no way of repairing the damage she had done.

'He hates me. I don't deserve his forgiveness.' She sobbed noisily into the ground, her tears spilling onto the dirt.

"But I love him," she sniffled softly. "I love him."

Christine wiped her eyes. Knowing full well that she could not stay in the forest, she slowly made her way back to the stables, finding Nacre along the way. After putting the horse back in her stable, she made her way back up to her room, hiding her mud-caked clothes and slipping into bed. With a sleeping Raoul beside her, Christine cried herself to sleep.

XOX

Raoul woke her up; he was using the in-room hairdryer. She was already thoroughly annoyed with him and she hadn't been up for two minutes. She did not want a repeat performance of yesterday though, and tried to remedy her fight with Raoul while consecutively thinking of the best time to tell him she did not want to marry him anymore. Ideally, she wanted to shout it out. Thinking of the repercussions of this, though, made her shudder with fear.

'No, not yet. We have about a week left. I'll tell him when we get home.'

She discussed her plans for the day with him. He planned on going to town all day and she wanted to spend her's in the library. To Christine's surprise, he agreed to her proposal and the two went their separate ways.

The day passed without much interruption. She had a nice breakfast and was able to finish a few books that had caught her attention. She took tea in the library, where a few other château guests joined her in a pleasant conversation over books. With other plans for the day, Christine was eventually left alone by her fellow conversers. She immersed herself into her book again. Time flew by and before Christine knew it, it was 10 p.m.

'I have to get to bed,' she thought, knowing who prowled these corridors at night. As much as she wanted to talk to Erik, she did not want to incite his anger further. 'No,' she reasoned. 'An appropriate time to talk to him will present itself eventually. I'm not going to push my luck.'

She glanced at the south-west wing, and seeing no one, mounted the 72 steps to her room. She pulled her key from her pocket and was about to open the door when she heard a strange noise coming from inside her room. She pressed her ear to the door and it soon became clear what was going on. Two voices, one male and one female, clearly _not_ talking. Fury blinded Christine as she opened the door and barged into her bedroom.

What she saw confirmed her worst suspicions. There was Raoul, naked and thrusting into a young blonde woman he undoubtedly picked up while in town. A scream of rage escaped Christine's lips. The noise, that sounded more like the cry of an animal than that of a human, made both of the busy figures jump. They leapt off each other, the girl pulling up the sheets to hide her exposed breasts. Raoul, left without a cover, grabbed a pillow.

Christine was beyond furious. She stormed into the room, shrieking at Raoul and the woman.

"Get out, now," Christine said to the girl, her voice quiet but quivering with venom.

The girl did not need to be told twice. Grabbing her clothes which had been strewn about the room, she rushed out, red with embarrassment and shame.

"YOU," Christine now rounded on Raoul, who was hastily trying to pull on a pair of pants. "You pig!" Christine felt her face flush; she was just getting started.

"How dare you cheat on me? I was never anything but loyal to you! And now you betray me like this? How _dare_ you?" She picked up a pillow and hurled it at him

"Christine," he started, dodging the pillow. His voice was calm, but had an edge to it. "Christine, listen to me," catching the other pillow she hurled at him. "I can explain!"

"Explain!" she shouted. "I don't think you need to _explain_ anything. I think it's pretty clear that you were screwing her! Or did I get it wrong? Is there another whore in here too?"

"She was not a whore!" he yelled, angry now.

"Oh, and now you're defending your skank? Great, Raoul, just great."

"Like you're blameless!" he yelled incredulously. "You've been gallivanting around the château and the town _without your wedding ring on_! Who knows how many men you've blown while you were here!"

"I have never!" Christine yelled. "And if I had, better them than you! With all the women you run around with, who knows what STD's are crawling all over your body! You make me sick, Raoul."

"Yeah? What are you going to do about it? The only reason I had girls on the side was because _you_ wouldn't put out! 'Christine the Prude'. What was I supposed to do?"

"_Respect me_, Raoul!" she cried out, exasperated.

" 'Respect me, Raoul,'" he mocked in a high and whiny voice. "What's to respect? You are a woman and worthless. You are an orphan and you are poor. You aren't worth the dirt on my shoes." With that, he spat at her feet.

Christine's mouth gaped open. In two long steps, she closed the gap between her and Raoul and slapped him hard across the face. He gasped and turned his head towards her again, earning him another blow. Christine's eyes were glowing with anger, a flame behind her pupils taking over all reason. She was being led by passion now, and there was nothing left to do other than to let it take over.

She looked defiantly into his eyes and pulled the engagement ring off her finger. She held it up for a second, the light reflecting off it's multi-faceted surfaces. She then threw it at his face.

"It's over, Raoul. I will not marry you. Not now, not ever."

Then, Christine saw the same passionate gleam in her eye's reflected in his. She was suddenly afraid, just now realizing how much bigger and stronger Raoul was. He advanced upon her slowly, and she started to back up to a wall.

"Not ever, eh? Well, maybe I can change your mind about that."

He lunged at her, a feral snarl escaping his lips. He caught her arms in his hands and pinned them above her head. He smashed his lips to hers and grinded his body against her own. Christine was repulsed by him; he smelled of another woman's sex and she could taste cheap liquor and cigarettes on his breath. She kept calm though, knowing she could escape.

'Simply fighting him won't be enough. I have to get away from him. I have to run.'

Before Raoul could shift his attention to the lower parts of her body, she kneed him in the groin. He brought his hands down quickly, bring down hers as well. She was flung to the floor as he doubled up in pain. Now was her chance.


	24. Chapter 24

Author's Note: Just a few more chapters left! How exciting! I hope you all enjoy this one and leave a review!

The Two Contenders

Christine shot up from the floor, unsure of where to turn. Raoul was blocking the exit to the bedroom and therefore, her only route to the front door. Then a thought hit her.

'The fireplace.'

She rushed over to the gigantic opening and began frantically searching for the latch. She heard Raoul groan and shift. Looking over her shoulder, she saw that he was making his way up.

'I have to find it, I have to find it!'

She screamed with frustration as she pounded the identical bricks, looking for one that would open the passageway. Frantic and frightened tears were clouding her vision and her mouth was twisted into a grimace. Raoul was getting closer to her now; he had stood up and was walking towards her slowly, his hand outstretched. This time, she screamed in fear and hysterically started to beat and kick the fireplace.

To her great surprise and relief, it opened. In a flash, she disappeared inside of it, willing it to close before Raoul gathered his wits enough to follow her.

She started to run down the dark passageway, listening for Raoul. She heard his shuffling steps behind her.

'He's moving, but he's not moving fast. At least I have an advantage: familiarity.'

She had been through this passage only a few times during her stay, but she tried to remember it each time she came. She knew she had to go down and, by common sense, to the south-west corner of the château. She would have to rely on luck however when it came to deciding what fireplace would be her exit.

She made her way quickly through the suffocating darkness of the passages. They reminded her of the catacombs of Paris. She ran her hands over the walls, feeling her way, praying that she would not run into any traps. A yell from Raoul indicated that he had been unlucky enough to encounter one. But a second later, she heard a shout of triumph. Whatever trap he had stumbled across had not slowed him down for long and seemed to only renew his vigor to reach Christine. He was now shouting obscenities at her.

Christine took what she hoped was the final turn. 'If I'm correct, than this dead end should open into the music room.'

As she did with her fireplace, Christine frantically felt for the latch, having more difficulties as she could not see a thing. Raoul was almost directly behind her now. She finally found the latch and yelped with joy as she literally dove out of the fireplace. She slid slightly on her stomach and turned onto her back, training her eyes on the fireplace for Raoul.

Not seeing him, she quickly stood up and turned around, prepared to keep running. What she saw stopped her in her tracks. Sheet music set out upon the beautiful grand piano, candles providing just enough light to read the notes written upon them.

'He was, no, he _is_ here.'

"Erik! Erik, please help me!" she cried out into the darkness, pleading for aid from the man she scorned.

"And why should I help you?" came a low voice from above her.

Tears of fear were streaming down her face. "Erik, please, I can hear him, he's coming. Help me." Her voice was raw with fear.

It was too late. Raoul had caught up with her. He launched himself out of the fireplace and, upon spotting Christine, approached her with startling quickness. His teeth were bared in a ferocious grin.

"Thought you could get away from me, did you? Thought you could escape? You are mine, Christine. You. Are. Mine."

She opened her mouth to scream, but was cut off when she felt a stinging pain on the side of her face. As if she was moving slow motion, she fell to the floor, bringing her hand to her cheek, which was hot to the touch. She looked up, seeing Raoul begin to kneel down next to her and bringing his hands to her neck.

Christine closed her eyes, ready for pain. She heard a scream of rage and felt Raoul's presence suddenly disappear. She ventured a look and saw Erik and Raoul locked in battle. Frozen to the floor, she watched their progress with fear in her eyes.

Both men's fists were flying, each landing crucial blows. Erik hit Raoul in the face, causing him to stumble back and clutch his nose, which had begun to bleed profusely. Enraged, Raoul flew at Erik, diving into his stomach. Both men fell to the floor, Erik gasping for breath as Raoul struggled to ignore the pain from his nose. Erik shoved Raoul off him and the bleeding man landed a few feet away. Using this time to catch his breath, Christine saw Erik plunge a hand into the folds of his clothes. When Raoul got up, Erik tossed what Christine knew was his Punjab lasso around Raoul's neck. He tightened the rope and yanked Raoul forward. He stumbled, but did not fall. Erik yanked him forward again, making Raoul lurch forward once more. Slowly, Erik forced a sputtering Raoul to the door, bodily kicking him from the music room once they reached the threshold.

Christine heard Erik growl a warning to Raoul never to return. Loosing the noose, Erik shoved Raoul away from the door. Raoul backed away, but was not about to let Erik have to final say. He picked up part of a dismantled umbrella holder from the floor and swung it forcefully at Erik's face. Caught off guard, Erik tried to turn away without success. The dangerous-looking piece of metal connected with Erik's mask. It instantly shattered. Erik fell to the floor with the force of the blow and Raoul stood over him, poised to strike him again.

Christine flew over to Erik, grabbing another piece of the ruined umbrella holder. She placed herself defensively over Erik, wielding the metal pole as if it were a sword made of finest steel.

"Leave," she said quietly to Raoul. "Leave now, and don't ever talk to me again. I want nothing more to do with you."

Raoul gave Christine a look of loathing and tossed the scrap metal aside. Huffing, he turned and made his way to the main hall of the château, not turning back once. Christine watched his progress, sure that she would never lay eyes on him again.


	25. Chapter 25

Author's Note: Ah! Now all that's left is the epilogue! Thank you all for sticking with the story and reviewing. I really do appreciate it. Enjoy!

The Truth

As soon as Raoul was out of her sight, she closed the door. Christine dropped the piece of metal she was holding and knelt down next to Erik. He was conscious, trying desperately to shield his face from her view. She helped him into a sitting position, leaning him against the wall.

A look of concern of her face, she gently touched Erik's hand, the one he held to his face.

"No!" he said gruffly, knocking her hand away with his free one.

Affronted but not to be deterred, Christine tried again. This time, she placed her hand upon his, meeting his eyes, trying to convey what she felt through them. Erik seemed to get the message, but vocalized his doubt.

"Christine, no. Go, now. Leave me with what little decency I have."

"Erik, please. You're hurt, there might still be pieces embedded in your skin. They need to be removed," she said quietly.

He met her eyes once more, which were a soft and gentle gold color, like warm honey.

"Let me help you," she whispered.

He relaxed and slowly he moved his hand away from his face.

Christine looked upon his face, anger and pity flaring through her. 'His parents abused him because of _this_?' she thought, unbelieving of the world's cruelty. The part of his face that was constantly hidden by the mask was indeed deformed: the skin looked as if it had been badly burned. She could see the scars that had formed from all of the merciless beatings he had suffered at the hands of those filled with hatred. But Christine found it remarkably easy to look past the deformity in order to see the beauty underneath. He had the same eyes, and those were the most important feature to Christine. Christine looked once more at his cheek, stained with tears and blood, this time inspecting it for stray pieces of porcelain. Finding none, she tried to look him in the eyes, but he was steadfastly avoiding her gaze.

Smiling gently, ripped a piece of fabric from the bottom of her shirt. With trembling hands, she reached over to his face. She gently blotted the blood and tears away. This simple gesture, overflowing with kindness, caused Erik to turn his tear-filled eyes to Christine's. She met his gaze, smiling softly.

"Christine," he whispered hoarsely.

"Erik," she said just as softly back, still smiling through her tears. She wrapped her arms around Erik and cried into his shoulder. It felt like she stayed in his arms for hours, knowing that in reality, only mere minutes were passing. Christine felt safe and comforted in his arms. She knew that she never wanted to leave them.

Erik pushed Christine out of his embrace ever so slightly so that he could talk to her. "Christine," he said, his voice wavering with emotion, "Christine, I do not deserve you." She tried to interrupt him, but he kept on. "My past is riddled with so much evil, Christine, and you are pure. You are of light, and I…I am a creature of darkness. And my face. How can you even bear to look? No, Christine. I do not deserve you"

"Your face? Erik, what about it? All I see is the man underneath, the man _behind_ the mask. Your scars are a tribute to all which you have suffered. They show you are strong in a way that is not often seen. They are symbols of your past, nothing more. You are beautiful to me, Erik.

Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes as he broke contact with her. He seemed embarrassed by what she was saying.

Christine only smiled. "And concerning your past, I believe it was you who told me that I should not judge you by your history and that you yourself had gotten past it. I know now that you have not, but some wounds take longer to heal. Erik, trust me when I say that you do deserve me. It is I that am the undeserving."

"Christine, no. What I said in the woods, I…"

She cut him off. "No, you were right. I am a liar. I should have told you everything. That night we danced, my duplicity tortured me. I knew that I could not continue to lead you on. I had to come clean. You deserved to know, even if it meant that neither of us could have what we wanted, at least in that moment. Erik, I am so sorry for everything that I've done to hurt you. I should have told you the truth about everything sooner, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Spending time with you was like spending time in a most glorious dream. I didn't want to wake from it. I'm sorry."

He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. "Christine, you are forgiven. One million times over, you are forgiven."

She smiled and kissed him. She pulled away and breathed onto his lips, whispering, "Erik, I love you."

He opened his eyes, which were a fierce green and filled with wonder. "I love you, Christine."

She smiled and kissed him again, this time delving deeper into his mouth. Her tongue danced with his, a wild tango of desire and passion. A dull ache arose in the pit of Christine's stomach and a fire was lit behind her eyes. She broke their kiss and looked into Erik's blazing green irises. What she saw there was familiar to her; it was the same look he had on the night of their dance.

She kissed him once more, needy this time, hungering for a nectar that only he possessed. Erik pressed her body into his, relishing the feeling of her every curve. Crazed now, he picked her up and walked her back to his room, somehow keeping his lips locked onto hers. He threw her onto his bed and crawled atop her, laying his body flush against hers. She kissed him hard. One of her hands twined into his hair. The other stroked his mangled cheek. Her legs were wrapped around his waist and she pressed herself against him. Erik suddenly broke their embrace, a worried expression upon his face.

"Christine, if we do this, there's no going back," he warned her. His desire for her was growing with every second she was in his arms and on his lips.

"Erik, as far as I'm concerned," she said breathlessly, "we've passed the point of no return."

XOX

In the darkness, Erik watched her sleep. She had given him the most pleasurable and wonderful night he had ever experienced.

'I hope she felt the same,' he thought.

He looked upon her sleeping form, marveling at her beauty and grace. Her chocolate curls were everywhere and slightly swollen pink lips were somewhat parted. She smiled faintly as she dreamed.

Erik kept staring at her, not noticing when she opened her eyes and regarded him. She reached out and touched his face, making him flinch.

"Christine," he said, "you are so beautiful." She blushed slightly and he saw her smile. 'Her smile,' he sighed. 'It can light up a room.'

"I love you," he stated, simply just to hear her reply.

"I love you too."


	26. Epilogue

Author's Note: Epilogue! How exciting! First, thank you all for sticking with the story until the end. I sincerely hope that you liked it. And good news! If you like my writing, be prepared for more of it! I recently just finished a Harry Potter fanfiction called "The Reminder". I'm probably going to wait a week before I post it (try to focus on some homework for once), but stay sharp and you'll find it. Also, I'm working on another Phantom of the Opera story, but it is not close to being finished quite yet. Anyways, I'll be around.

Thank you so, SO much for reading and reviewing. And as always, enjoy.

Epilogue

**Three months later…**

Ever since the night when Erik and Christine had made love, they had become inseparable, quite literally. She spent every day and every night by his side, and he would not have it any other way.

Soon after the decision was reached that Christine would stay with Erik, she persuaded him to come out as the owner of the Château de Hac. Mme. DesChanels took the news with a smile, but Christine could tell she was a bit puzzled about how Christine came to be with him. Remembering to whom she was employed delayed asking any kinds of questions, though, and Christine chose to remain silent about her and Erik's meeting.

Erik had become a new man ever since Christine came to him. He was more outgoing and friendly and less prone to the moodiness that before had so often captured him. He also made appearances at all the dinners, regaling guests with stories that he knew and humoring them with various jokes and riddles he had learned over the years. Christine was always at his side.

'Tonight is different,' Erik thought as he readied his kitchen. 'Tonight, we shall not dine with the guests.'

Christine walked into Erik's room, which remained in the south-west corner of the château. She was shuffling through the mail they now received. "Bill, bill, lawn moving service, oh, something from Nadir, bill…" she trailed off as she looked up at the scene before her. Erik pulled out a chair, offering it to Christine with a smile. Christine was delighted that Erik had gone put together this dinner, but it made her suspicious as well.

"Erik, what have you planned?"

"Why, a romantic dinner for two, of course. Now, are you just going to stand there all night, or will you join me?"

She rolled her eyes at him for his cheek and took a seat in the proffered chair. They dined amiably, Christine often catching Erik throwing surreptitious glances at her from across the table. Dessert was over and Christine leaned back in her chair.

"Are you going to tell me what this evening was really about now?" she questioned.

"Well, I suppose so, since you asked so nicely," he said sarcastically.

Christine started to laugh. Her mood turned serious though as she saw Erik leave his chair and bend down on one knee.

"Christine, so much has happened to bring us together. Ten years elapsed from when I first saw you. The magic we have now unfolded within a week. Both of us almost died on several different occasions. And yet, here we are: alive and together, peaceful at last. We were fated to be together, and now, to remain together."

He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small black velvet box. Opening it, he said the words Christine was longing to hear.

"Christine Daaé, will you marry me?"

Her eyes filled up with tears as she looked at the ring in front of her. A small pear cut diamond was situated between two emeralds, all set on a platinum band. It was light, inconspicuous, and absolutely beautiful.

"Yes Erik, oh yes!"

She fell to her knees before him and captured him in a hug. He looked into her eyes, her now shining amber eyes, and kissed her.

When he had finished, Christine was left breathless, much like when he had first kissed her ten years ago. But this time she knew which way was up.


End file.
